


Heart of a Slytherin

by KatrineHargrave



Series: Dark Hearts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst, Angst and Romance, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 54,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1358347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatrineHargrave/pseuds/KatrineHargrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lysandra Blackwell is ordered by Dumbledore to become Snape's spying partner, and they become unlikely friends. After the Dark Lord falls, peace resumes, but there are still Death Eaters on the loose, seeking revenge. Chaos resumes; the former spies must play the largest part in reestablishing order in their world. What happens when their hearts begin a very dangerous game? AU; EWE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Curse and a Vow

Lysandra Blackwell was a seventh-year when Voldemort returned during the Triwizard Tournament. She remembered, very clearly, how desperately she had wanted to join Harry and his friends on the front lines in their fight against the evil bastard. But she’d been given a place elsewhere in the Order; she’d become a spy, joining Snape whenever he was summoned to a meeting by the Dark Lord. She’d gained his trust quickly due to how well Snape had gained it and how well she played her part. Voldemort would “grace” her, as he’d put it, with the Dark Mark only months later, whereas with the others, unless they’d been among the very first of the Death Eaters, like Snape, it’d taken over a year.

She sighed. She hadn’t wanted to be a spy, but she couldn’t argue with Dumbledore’s reasoning in her becoming one—she was quick and accurate in a duel, and she was gifted with curses and hexes in that hers lasted longer, did more damage, and used less energy; it was as if she was born to duel. So, Dumbledore ordered Snape to train her how to act like a Death Eater and to start taking her to meetings, get her accepted, show her off as if he’d found the most brilliant little dark witch, because the Dark Lord was becoming suspicious of Snape as of late. Lysandra was pretty much his bodyguard, in case it was decided that he was no longer trustworthy and was attacked by the others or, God forbid, Voldemort himself.

“Miss Blackwell,” the potions master’s sarcastic voice drawled months later, pulling her from her thoughts. “Care to turn your attention back to the class?”

She sat up, raising her head from where it had been resting on her hand. “Right. Sorry, sir.”

He just pursed his lips. Surely, she wasn’t the only one who could read people well enough to see the less-than-happy look in his eyes when he said his next words? “Ten points from Gryffindor.”

A few of the other students groaned. Of course they wouldn’t see that; they’d only see the dark, sarcastic potions master and not the man who was risking his life for every single one of them every single day. No, all they saw was the resentful and mysterious Severus Snape, Death Eater, practically right hand to the Dark Lord. They never saw him standing alone on the astronomy tower every night, never saw the well-hidden panic in his eyes when, during her first meeting, he pretended to be possessive of her against Lucius, when really he was terrified of what would happen if the blond sadist got his hands on her.

They were a team; the others didn’t know what it was like to have only him as a fallback, didn’t know what it was like for him to be the only living thing within fifty miles who would defend her if she should need it, even though she was supposed to be the one defending him. They didn’t know what it was like to be forced to trust him.

“Miss Blackwell,” he snapped again, this time with a confused look plain as day in his eyes and he tried to glare at her, “make that twenty points.”

More students groaned, giving her annoyed looks. She grimaced, but not from all the glaring; the Mark on her arm was burning. She gasped quietly from the pain, not used to it after only feeling it once before, and turned her wide-eyed gaze to her Professor. It was the middle of class. How were they supposed to answer the summons without raising suspicion? 

* * *

 

Severus forced the pain from his mind in order to think of something as the room of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws stared at him, waiting for him to continue his lecture. “Actually, Blackwell, I think I’d rather just have you out of my class. I have little patience for your inattention today. However…detention tomorrow, straight after dinner.” He gestured with his head to the door, signaling she should leave. He really didn’t want her to go alone, but he didn’t have a choice at the moment, not until he came up with a reason to—

Lysandra crashed to the floor as she walked towards the door, knocking over books and cauldrons and two girls from her own house. He rushed to her side, at first worried she’d actually fainted, but when she opened her eyes briefly while only he could see them, he realized what she was doing. _Well that was a bit dramatic_ , he thought.

“Get out, all of you.”

“I’ll tell Madame Pomfrey,” one of them said.

“No!” At their confused looks, he quickly recovered with, “No, she’ll be all right. Just get out, I need to give her the proper potions, and I can’t have all you imbeciles breathing down my neck.” _Not that any of you actually give a damn what happens to her, you disloyal gits._

Once they had all gone, she fully opened her eyes and grinned, sitting up. “Brilliant, am I not?”

He rolled his eyes. “For the moment. Hold my arm, we’re already late.” She obeyed, and they disapparated, reappearing among the rest of the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort, all of which had been waiting for them. “I fiercely apologize, my lord,” Snape intoned as he and Lysandra bowed slightly. “We had to get rid of the rest of her class. I must say, her cunning surprises me each time she demonstrates it, despite myself.”

“Yes, Severus, you rarely dole out compliments. You must see much more in her than I have so far to be saying such things,” the Dark Lord replied.

“With all due respect, my lord,” he answered, both of their heads still bowed, “that may well be the case, seeing as I have known her since she was eleven.”

The two spies let out a surreptitious sigh of relief when the Dark Lord agreed, but stiffened once more when he continued speaking. “Yes, that is true. I wonder though, Severus, has her dueling ability surpassed yours yet? She is surprisingly…adept…with hexes and curses.”

“I do not know, my lord. I have never dueled with her myself, not properly. She has only had a proper duel with Bellatrix, and, I daresay, anyone whose skill matches Bella’s can surely hold there can own against me, my lord.”

“And what are you tryin’ to say, you filthy half-blood?” Bellatrix demanded.

He finally dared to lift his head so he could look Bella in the eye. “You know very well how skilled you are in a duel, Bella, don’t try to turn it into an insult,” he quipped with a sneer. “And don’t be arrogant. You’ve never beaten me.”

The Dark Lord watched them bicker with an amused smirk on his face. Luckily for Lysandra, no one noticed her unconsciously biting her lip, or they would have seen the worry in her eyes, but Voldemort finally hushed them and led the pack of Death Eaters into a run-down old building she hadn’t noticed before, too preoccupied by avoiding Voldemort’s anger and then on Snape and Bella’s bickering. That woman would use any excuse to piss someone off, although she admired her Professor’s patience with Bella.

Once everyone was seated at a long, rectangular table that was the only thing in the building besides chairs, the Dark Lord moved on to the real reason they were there. “It has come to my attention,” he began, “that not all of my servants remained faithful in my absence.” He gazed at each Death Eater in turn, seeming to stare into their souls. “While I…understand…that not all of you could due to certain duties, like the ones Severus here had, what I do not understand is why any of the rest of you would wait so long to show up as _today_.”

Everyone but Snape, Lysandra, Pettigrew, Lucius, and Bellatrix avoided his gaze, not knowing what to say.

“Well? Answer me!” His voice bounced off the walls, resounding like thunder through the room, making nearly everyone jump.

Every witch and wizard that tried to give excuses as met with a hex, and then so were the ones who didn’t try to weasel their way back into his good graces with lies. Eventually, toward the end of the meeting, he decided to initiate Lysandra via the Cruciatus Curse. Severus clenched his jaw and barely held himself back from cursing the Dark Lord, instead holding the arms of his chair so tightly that his hands would ache later. But he was proud of her; she only cried out once and any other noises she made were kept to quick grunts of pain. When he was satisfied that she would serve him well, Voldemort called an end to the meeting and disapparated with Bellatrix and Wormtail. 

* * *

 

Severus apparated back to Hogwarts with Lysandra immediately; she dropped to the ground instantly, taking him with her. They landed with her half in his lap, clutching at his robes as if her life depended on it. He wrapped her in his arms to steady her shaking body.

“I’m sorry, Miss Blackwell, I had no idea he would do that to you. I’m so, so sorry. I would have warned you had I known!”

She didn’t reply, just cried into his shoulder for how long, neither of them knew. When she finally lifted her head, he was running his pale fingers through her dark brown hair, with his chin resting on the top of her head, muttering calming words and making soothing sounds. She tried to be surprised, because it was so unlike him, but she couldn’t, not after the agony she’d undergone; he was only so out of character because he was as shocked by it as she had been, she knew. 

* * *

 

A month after Lysandra’s first experience with the Cruciatus Curse, she and Severus gripped each other’s right wrists, gazes locked, as Headmaster Dumbledore began the spell.

“Do you, Severus Snape, swear to watch over and protect your partner, Lysandra Blackwell, under pain of death while among the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters?”

“I do.”

“Do you, Lysandra Blackwell, swear to watch over and protect your partner, Severus Snape, under pain of death while among the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters?”

“I do.”

Dumbledore concluded the spell, leaving barely-there scars on the participants’ skin, and the two spies looked at each other for another moment, letting what had just happened sink in.

Snape’s expression turned dark, anger pooling in his onyx eyes, as he continued to stare at this young woman who was now bound to him in the most powerful way, but turned his glare on the Headmaster before she could shrink back in fear, thinking it was her that his anger was directed towards. “Do you realize what you’ve just done, old man?!” he shouted. Lysandra jumped at the sudden violation of the perfect silence. “She’s seventeen, Albus! She was Marked by the Dark Lord _yesterday_! How can you now potentially force her to die for a man she barely even knows?”

“She was the one who suggested the Vow, Severus.”

That brought the dark wizard up short. “She—what?” He turned his wide-eyed, astonished gaze on Lysandra.

She crossed her arms, wanting to glare, but they fell back to rest at her sides. “I know you don’t trust anyone, not even the Headmaster—at least, not fully—but yourself. While I would love to simply let you come to trust me on your own, we don’t have that kind of time. We need Voldemort to think we work together perfectly as master and apprentice, and trust each other absolutely.”

He sighed, glancing back and forth between her and Albus.

“Well? Can you trust me now, or are you still too bloody stubborn to let yourself see that I mean it?” the younger witch inquired, a silent plea in her bright blue eyes.

It was those eyes that broke him, the desperation they had for his trust. He gave in with another sigh, scowling at the little Gryffindor. “I daresay you almost belong in Slytherin, Blackwell.”

She beamed. “I’ll take that as a yes!”

“I must ask, though…do _you_ trust _me_?”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation.

“Why?”

A small, sad smile replaced her joyful one. “Because I can see right through you, Severus Snape. I know that you’re sarcasm and hostility are a shield to protect yourself, both from the Dark Lord’s wrath and from anyone else hurting you. I may not know who caused you to put up barriers like the ones you have, but they’ve nearly ruined you. Don’t lose yourself in all of your heartache. You’re better than that.”

With that, she walked out of the room, leaving two bewildered wizards in her wake, who continued to argue about other things a few minutes later.

Lysandra Blackwell was a seventh-year when Voldemort returned during the Triwizard Tournament. She remembered, very clearly, how desperately she had wanted to join Harry and his friends on the front lines in their fight against the evil bastard. But she’d been given a place elsewhere in the Order; she’d become a spy, joining Snape whenever he was summoned to a meeting by the Dark Lord. She’d gained his trust quickly due to how well Snape had gained it and how well she played her part. Voldemort would “grace” her, as he’d put it, with the Dark Mark only months later, whereas with the others, unless they’d been among the very first of the Death Eaters, like Snape, it’d taken over a year.

She sighed. She hadn’t wanted to be a spy, but she couldn’t argue with Dumbledore’s reasoning in her becoming one—she was quick and accurate in a duel, and she was gifted with curses and hexes in that hers lasted longer, did more damage, and used less energy; it was as if she was born to duel. So, Dumbledore ordered Snape to train her how to act like a Death Eater and to start taking her to meetings, get her accepted, show her off as if he’d found the most brilliant little dark witch, because the Dark Lord was becoming suspicious of Snape as of late. Lysandra was pretty much his bodyguard, in case it was decided that he was no longer trustworthy and was attacked by the others or, God forbid, Voldemort himself.

“Miss Blackwell,” the potions master’s sarcastic voice drawled months later, pulling her from her thoughts. “Care to turn your attention back to the class?”

She sat up, raising her head from where it had been resting on her hand. “Right. Sorry, sir.”

He just pursed his lips. Surely, she wasn’t the only one who could read people well enough to see the less-than-happy look in his eyes when he said his next words? “Ten points from Gryffindor.”


	2. The Last Battle

Lysandra did her best to avoid engaging any of the other witches or wizards of Hogwarts in a fight; she didn’t have it in her to hurt any one of them, even just for show. So, the most she ever did was defend herself and try to find Severus. He’d promised to find her during the fight so that they could tell Harry that he was Voldemort’s last Horcrux, however unintentional, besides Nagini. Severus had said for her to make her way to the dungeons and that he would find her there within half an hour of the Death Eaters invading the school, but he wasn’t there. The attack was forty-five minutes ago.

 _Where the bloody hell is he?_ she thought. With a very bad feeling settling itself in her stomach, she left the dungeons in search of anyone who might know where he was.

Lucius Malfoy was the first Death Eater she found. “Malfoy!” she called, running over and ending his fight with a loud, “ _Stupefy_ ,” sending the witch flying. “Have you seen Severus?”

“And why would you like to know, witch?” he asked with a sneer rather similar to Snape’s. She might have laughed if they weren’t in the middle of a war.

She glared, jabbing the end of her wand into his neck. “Just bloody tell me, Malfoy, or I swear I’ll hex you into next year.”

“He’s in the boathouse with the Dark Lord,” he said stiffly.

She shivered. “Thanks,” she said quickly, sprinting full-tilt for the small building.

Lysandra only just managed to keep from bowling Harry, Ron, and Hermione over as they all tried to turn a corner at the same time. For a moment they just looked at each other, before Harry ventured, “Where are _you_ rushing to?”

She scowled, crossing her arms. “The boathouse. And you?”

His frown matched her own. “Same.”

“Why are _you_ going there?” Hermione chimed in.

Lysandra rolled her eyes. “Nearly the same reason as you. Severus is there.”

“Oh, you two are on a first-name basis now?” Ron quipped.

“Oh, shut it, Weasley. None of us have time to waste, so I suggest we move along.”

None of the Golden Trio moved.

She rolled her eyes again. “Oh, bloody hell. You’re all ridiculous.” She set off again, still sprinting as fast as she could, and smirked when she heard the others’ thudding feet as they ran after her. She held them back as they crept closer to the crystal building, listening intently to the conversation; they sat silently just outside the door. Lysandra wracked her brain for any way to help.

“…Tonight, when the boy comes, it will not fail you, I am sure of it. It answers to you, and you only,” Severus assured.

“Does it?” Voldemort questioned with a knowing tone.

“My lord?” He was obviously confused.

“The wand. Does it truly answer to me? You’re a clever man, Severus. Surely, you must know…where does its true loyalty lie?” Lysandra could somewhat see where this was going, and adrenaline began to course through her veins as her heart sped up in her chest.

“With you, _of course_ , my lord.”

“The Elder wand cannot serve me properly because…I am not its true master. The Elder wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner.”

Lysandra gasped, now fully realizing Voldemort’s intent, and cast a _muffliato_ charm on the small group around her. She listened to the Dark Lord carefully as she spoke quickly, praying the trio would understand her. “We’ve got to stop him. I don’t know who the wand really belongs to, and I don’t care, but Voldemort’s about to kill Severus. Cover me or I swear I will kill you all myself.”

She barely saw them nod with stunned looks on their faces and she burst into the room, hurling herself in front of Severus and crying out, “ _Salvio Hexia_ ,” against whatever hex Voldemort threw at Severus, who looked like he nearly had a heart attack as the four young sorcerers rushed inside.

“ _Stupefy_!” the Dark Lord hissed, infuriated.

“ _Finite_!”

Hermione yelled out, “ _Immobulus_!” as Nagini began to curl into an _S_ , preparing to strike.

“ _Sectumsempra_!”

“ _Protego_!”

Voldemort and Lysandra circled each other, with the latter holding Severus’ left wrist, keeping his still-stunned form behind her. “You cannot defeat _me_!” Voldemort roared. “I have the Elder wand! I am immortal!”

“Oh, really? Then why were you about to kill Professor Snape?” Hermione asked impatiently.

He glanced at her, flanked by her two friends, all their wands raised. Lysandra wondered briefly why Severus hadn’t raised his wand yet, but another step told her that he had it pointed at Voldemort over her right shoulder.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” the professor said softly. The Elder wand flew from the Dark Lord’s hand, landing on middle of Nagini’s curled-up body.

“ _Stupefy_!” Lysandra said before Voldemort could recover; he landed on Nagini as well, his wand hand searching beneath him for the Elder wand.

When he finally found it and raised it, the five witches and wizards were in a half-circle around him, wands ready. By his expression, they all expected him to disapparate and return to fight on his own terms, so no one had a spell on their tongue to block the curse.

“ _Sectumsempra_!” _Then_ he disapparated, as Severus collapsed. Lysandra did her best to slow him, darting behind him to cushion his fall, landing with his head leaning against her left shoulder.

“No, no, no, no, no. Don’t you dare die on me, Severus Snape,” she commanded, mentally scanning the small list of healing spells she’d learned. A memory flashed through her thoughts:

 

_“Did you ever create a counter-curse for it?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“What is it?”_

_“_ Vulnera Sanentur _.”_

Lysandra raised her wand over the deep gash in Severus’ neck, nearly panicking at the amount of blood already pooled around them. She shifted him gently, so that his head was resting in the crook of her elbow, in order to actually see the cut. “ _Vulnera Sanentur_.” His bleeding slowed. “ _Vulnera Sanentur_.” The gash began to close. “ _Vulnera Sanentur_.” It closed fully, leaving an angry red line from the right corner of his jawbone to the end of his collar bone closest to the hollow at the base of his neck. Without looking up, she asked, “Would any of you happen to have any dittany?”

“I-I have some essence in my bag…” Hermione said shakily.

“May I use it, please?”

“Yeah, h-hold on.” She opened her small bag and muttered, “ _Accio_ essence of dittany.” It flew into her hand, and she passed it to Lysandra.

She took it with a quiet “thank you” and started dripping it on the other spy’s wound. He was trembling, she noticed, as his hand came up to weakly cup the side of her face.

“You have blood… _all_ over you,” he rasped. Then he turned to the trio, as shimmery tears fell from his eye. “Take them. Take them to the Pensieve.”

Potter practically ordered Hermione to give him something to put the memories in. She hurriedly obeyed, and Harry gathered the tears in the small flask she gave him.

“Take them to the Pensieve,” Severus murmured again.

“I will.” He stood and turned to his friends. “Come on, we haven’t got much time.”

Voldemort must have invaded everyone’s mind, because they all flinched and covered their ears. Even Severus, as powerful in Occlumency as he was in Legilimency, cringed slightly; he was still weak from blood loss, so his barriers weren’t as strong as they should be. Lysandra was a relatively strong Occlumens as well and always kept her barriers up, so she couldn’t hear whatever it was the Dark Lord was saying, and she bloody well wasn’t about to find out. She presumed the mental assault was over when the trio ran off.

She resumed her use of the essence of dittany, watching as the last few drops left the wound looking almost a week old. “There. It shouldn’t scar much.”

“I’ve got plenty of scars, girl. One more doesn’t matter, as long as I’m alive.”

She smirked. “I see I’ve done my job well.”

“Obviously.”

She rolled her eyes. He was still shaking from shock; he was “obviously” only pretending to be completely fine.

“You are _covered_ in blood.”

“You said that already.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. And trust me; you really don’t want to see how much is on the floor. Can you stand? We need to get out you out of here so I can find a blood replenishing potion for you.”

“I think so…” She helped him stand, seeing that he had lost more blood than she thought; her entire front was covered in it and the pool of it on the floor was…frightening. He couldn’t stand on his own; he had to wrap and arm around her shoulders and lean on her to keep from crumpling to the floor.

“Ready? We’ll have to apparate.” He nodded, jaw clenched in determination; he absolutely refused to fall. The next second, they were in his classroom, right next to the door to his private chambers. “ _Alohomora_.” Lysandra tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Damn.”

“Did you honestly think I’d let it be that easy for someone to just barge into my quarters?”

“No, I suppose not. Can’t blame me for being hopeful. Unlock it.”

He muttered a spell that Lysandra couldn’t hear, and the door opened of its own accord. She helped him get to the couch and lie down on it, propping him up with some pillows she found once he directed her to his bedroom. Next, he told her where his private stores were, and where the blood-replenishing potion was. She found it easily; it was the only dark-red potion he had. Well, the only one she could see. After fifteen minutes, and three vials of the potion, he was perfectly fine, save the mark on his throat. “Bloody bastard.”

“Don’t worry, Harry will kill him. Actually, if he fails, you could shock the living hell out of everyone by doing it yourself.”

That finally got him to smirk, despite the haunted look still in his eyes. “Indeed. I’m sure they’d all just _love_ me then.”

“Oh, please! If you didn’t have to hide everything good about yourself, they’d love you already.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Sure they would.”

“Whatever. Come on; let’s go see if we can help kill the _real_ Death Eaters.” She started for the door.

Severus followed, adding a dry, “ _We_ are real Death Eaters, Miss Blackwell.”

“I can’t believe you’re still calling me ‘Miss Blackwell’ after everything we’ve been through. And we are _not_ real Death Eaters, thank you very much. Having the Dark Mark only means we’re the best soldiers the Order’s ever had.” They came to the stairs leading to the ground floor of the castle.

“ _You_ are, maybe. I’m just the git who switched sides because of a sodding woman. How cliché of me.”

“One: you are not a git. Two: it’s romantic, not cliché. And three: if you hadn’t, we’d all be bloody dead, so shut up about it.” 

* * *

By the time they found where everyone else was, the Longbottom boy was giving some sort of speech and nearly tried to attack the Dark Lord with the sword of Gryffindor. Severus cast a disillusionment spell on them as Lysandra simultaneously cast a notice-me-not charm, and the pair crept to opposite sides of the crowd that faced Voldemort and his army, wands ready. The moment Potter dropped from Hagrid’s arms, the Dark Lord appeared to go mad and disapparated— _What’s the point in that if you want to kill him?_ Snape thought—and the fighting resumed full-force. Severus and Lysandra removed the spells on them to engage as many Death Eaters as possible, eventually ending up back-to-back dueling up to four at a time.

Minerva McGonagall arrived to attack the pair just as they finished off another group of four, but hesitated. All three had there wands ready, all unwilling to start this fight. Minerva knew Lysandra would protect Severus and was reluctant to fight them both, and her former student to boot; Severus and Lysandra flat out refused to attack a woman they held respect for and put each in danger at the same time.

Potter and Voldemort crashed into the courtyard rather conveniently then, so their eyes were pulled away from each other and toward the two wizards whose spells were battling each their wands. The Elder wand finally failed, and as Potter cast the spell that turned Voldemort to ash and nothing, the dark wizard’s eyes found Severus, and he died infuriated by his own failure.


	3. A Memory and a Horcrux

It took three weeks to get the Death Eaters rounded up, and even longer for Potter to convince the Ministry that Snape and Blackwell weren’t true Death Eaters. Severus was forced to resort to giving memories, although none _quite_ as detailed as the ones he’d given Potter, of course. He and Blackwell kept close to each other in that time, feeling equally isolated by the wizarding world.

“We can hardly blame them,” she said one evening, just as the sun was going down. They were walking along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, their part in the castle’s restoration done for the day. “Apart from saving Harry, Ron, and Hermione from Lupin in their third year, really, you were very convincing. Gods know I was never accepted to begin with. Sodding teenagers.”

He smirked, lifting his face to the sunset with his hands buried in the pockets of his frock coat. “You just intimidated them. You’re good with Dark Magic. And you certainly never gave anyone a chance to see the real you once they’d damaged your pride.”

“I don’t suffer fools who insult me and then try to pretend they’re my friends.”

“Good girl.”

“Professor Snape!” someone called from the hilltop, near Hagrid’s hut.

The pair turned around, wondering who had interrupted them, to find Headmistress McGonagall. “Yes, Minerva?” Snape called.

“Would the both of you please come with me?” Without waiting for an answer, she whirled to walk swiftly back to the castle, not saying a word to either of them until they were all in her office, Dumbledore’s portrait watching them silently from the wall.

“What’s this about, Headmistress?” Blackwell asked, brow furrowing. Snape knew by the tone of her voice that she was nervous and was barely holding back the impulse to bite her lip.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, dear; it’s just that I didn’t want this conversation to be overheard by any of the students still leery of the two of you, even all the way out there.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Snape said.

“Let’s just get to the point, then, shall we? Severus, I would like you to resume your former position as Potions Master,” the Scottish woman began.

“Of course! Gods know I haven’t anything else to do,” he drawled.

“Wonderful! And, Miss Blackwell, is it safe for me to assume that you have no current job prospects? To the best of my knowledge, your time was taken up by your work as a spy, and then as deputy headmistress along with Alecto Carrow.”

“That’s correct, Headmistress,” she agreed, giving Severus a confused glance. He shrugged in return, feigning as oblivious to where Minerva was going with this as she was.

“Then I would like to offer you a position at Hogwarts as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor,” Minerva stated bluntly.

Blackwell just looked shocked for a moment. “But…but, Headmistress, I…I haven’t gone through the required apprenticeship or anything…”

McGonagall held up a hand to stop the younger girl from speaking further. “Already taken care of, my dear. I’ve spoken to the Ministry, and they have agreed that the trials you were put through these past three years was well able to substitute any apprenticeship you would have been put through otherwise. However, should you accept, you will need to know what it is the students need to learn before classes resume.” She looked at Snape. “Severus, I assume you are well able to help her with this? You _did_ teach the class last year, after all.”

The dark man nodded once. “It shouldn’t be a problem. Miss Blackwell learns rather quickly, if my opinion is of any merit.”

“Excellent!” The older witch turned her gaze back to Blackwell, awaiting an answer.

Tears threatened to spill from the younger girl’s eyes, surprisingly touched that her former Transfigurations professor had chosen _her_ above everyone else. “Of course! Thank you so much, Headmistress!” Unable to contain herself, she ran around the desk to hug a very shocked Minerva.

“Oh, call me Minerva, _Professor_ Blackwell, seeing as we’ll be equals in a few months, more or less.”

“Then you must call me Lysandra.” She straightened, giving Severus a pointed look. “And so should you.”

He quirked an eyebrow, but relented, knowing how _un_ relenting she could be. “Very well.”

“Can I call you Severus, then?”

“As if you don’t already, _Lysandra_.” He rose from his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he hid his surprise at realizing how much he liked the sound of her name falling from his lips.

She rolled her eyes. “Very well,” she mimicked him.

Minerva watched from her chair as the two joked back and forth for a moment, curious about Severus’ behavior. He hardly so much as smirked, not to mention chuckle or smile outright. Tilting her head, she wondered exactly how much influence the girl had on him over the last three years. She shook her head slightly and sighed, not bothering to think on it further, and shooed them from her office, the pair still making good-natured jibes at each other.

They returned to their quarters in the dungeons, one of the few places in the castle that hadn’t been completely destroyed. Most of those who were helping to rebuild the school lived down there, if they didn’t have anywhere else to live. Lysandra had been given the chambers just across the hall from Severus, so they continued their conversation right up to their doors.

“Goodnight, Lysandra,” he chuckled, “unlocking” the wards on his door so he could enter his quarters, as she returned his farewell.

Closing the door behind him, he registered that it was too quiet, too still. Usually his puffball of a black-and-gray cat, Aline, would have either launched herself into his arms or started winding her way around his ankles, but she was nowhere to be seen. He waited another moment, but she still didn’t appear. Frowning, he searched all of his rooms, finally coming to his bedroom. The second he stepped inside, the fur ball pounced on him, landing gracefully on his right shoulder from her perch on top of a bookshelf.

He must have accidentally locked her in there before he left for dinner earlier that evening. “You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack. I don’t _believe_ you weren’t yowling at me to come fetch you,” he muttered, reaching up to scratch behind the cat’s ears, making her purr. He turned his head to nuzzle her side in further apology, but winced when the light scar on his neck stretched a bit painfully. _Apparently the dittany did little to keep the muscle from scarring,_ he thought, gently rubbing the now-smooth line, grimacing as he remembered the sting of his former master’s magic slashing into his throat.

Aline jumped to the floor, heading to the sitting room and breaking his reverie.

“Right. I’ll bet you want some supper, don’t you?” He closed the door to his bedroom again upon leaving it, summoning a house elf to ask for Aline’s meal. As she devoured her food, he relaxed on his black leather couch with the Daily Prophet, bored almost before beginning to read. He tossed it aside, wondering if he had any books he hadn’t read yet…

Blackwell—no, Lysandra—crossed his mind at random. He wondered what it would be like with her teaching at the school. Would the students even know her enough to dislike her? Oh, who was he kidding, of course they would! Even if she hadn’t been all over the news with him the past month and a half, they would still recognize her as the woman who had reigned as one of the deputy headmistresses last year, before he’d given up his Headmaster title, and as one of… _his_ most beloved Death Eaters. No one had ever known her before that; they didn’t see the true Gryffindor spirit in her that everyone so admired.

He’d always been loath to admit, even to himself, that she was the one Gryffindor he’d ever liked the tiniest bit since James Potter and his inner circle ruined the image of that house for him, and since Lily died. However, it was impossible for him to ignore how well she played her cards around _him_ , how strong she was in the face of impending agony via Cruciatus Curse. And he would forever be grateful to her for the night that he became Headmaster of Hogwarts. 

* * *

 

 _“Go on, Draco._ Now _!” Bellatrix shrieked in the boy’s ear._

_“No,” Severus disagreed, voice low, as he made his presence known. Blackwell was just behind him, following at his left shoulder as he approached the group._

_Draco’s wand hand was shaking violently as he lowered it, obviously relieved by the older man’s appearance. Severus stared at Dumbledore, seeming to build suspense when all he wanted to do was turn tail and run. But, he knew that if he wasn’t the one to kill the old wizard who had so begged him to, one of the others in the room would be appointed to take Dumbledore’s place. He couldn’t even begin to think of how disastrous that would prove to be._

_He would do it, if for no other reasons than the old man had begged him to and to protect the students as best he could._

_Blackwell’s smooth, cool hand gripped his warm one, sensing his grief, silently telling him that everything would be okay._

_“Severus…Please…”_

_“_ Avada Kedavra _.” The unsteadiness in his voice was evident as he reflexively gripped the girl’s hand tighter._

_The Killing Curse hit its mark. Bellatrix conjured the Dark Mark in the sky without a second thought, screaming out her sick delight. Severus just turned and left, not caring about Draco for the moment. He had to get away. The knowledge of what he had just done was an unbearable weight on his shoulders. He had no idea where he was even going or that he was muttering violent words under his breath, only aware enough to know that he had to get away from everything._

_“Shh, stop, come on, you’ll get us hexed into the next life if anyone hears you.” Blackwell removed her hand from his iron, and almost painful, grip to take hold of his upper arm with both hands, pulling him into an empty classroom and warding the door. He began to pace immediately, robes billowing out like they always did when he walked. Vaguely, he noticed Blackwell leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, biting her lip._

_She let him rant to himself for a while before apparently deciding it was time to intervene once again. She stepped directly into his path, forcing him to come to a halt in order to avoid knocking her over, to cup his face and make him look her in the eyes._

_“You have_ got _to make yourself relax, Severus Snape.”_

_“How can I bloody relax when I just murdered one of the greatest wizards of all time?” He knew his eyes were black ice and his voice was sharp, cutting, vicious; he never spoke to her this way, still thinking of her as his charge rather than his partner, but he was beyond controlling himself at this point._

_She only stared him down, despite being almost two heads shorter than him. “For starters, quit bloody pacing. That’s never going to help. Deep breaths, listen to your own heartbeat…maybe even cry if you want.” She grinned when his eyes narrowed in a fiercer glare._

_“I do not cry,” he said slowly, forcing back memories of exactly_ why _he did not cry._

_“I know. But maybe you should.”_

_He sighed, not bothering to argue with her. “I just killed a man.”_

_She refused to let him go. “You’ve killed people before, Snape.”_

_“This is different.”_

_“I know,” she relented, “I know. I’m so sorry.” As his breathing became shaky once more, she shushed him again and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him close. “Deep breaths. Heartbeat,” she repeated._

_“How do you…Why are you so…”he struggled, amazed at her._

_“I’ve spent a lot of time around you in the past two years. I can tell when that careful mask of yours is starting to slip. And you’ve never scared me, you sodding git.”_

_He gave up fighting her, lightly returning her embrace. A corner of his mouth lifted for a split second before the sad smile disappeared._

_“I cannot believe what I just did.”_

_“Hush. Everything will be fine. I promise.”_

A crash brought him from the memory, bringing back instincts learned during those dark days. Brow furrowed, he drew his wand and rose from the couch as Aline scurried under an armchair. Severus opened the door to the hall slowly, hardly believing his eyes when he saw Lysandra’s door completely destroyed.

“Lysandra?”

Others began to leave their rooms, wondering what the noise had been, wands drawn like his.

He ventured into the dark chambers of his former partner, fearing the worst. “Lysandra!” he called again, still meeting silence.

“Look who it is,” a familiar voice leered from the darkness, “the traitor.”

“ _Lumos_ ,” he murmured. His wand lit the small sitting room, and his eyes went wide. How had she managed to destroy the place so rapidly? _What did she use, the Expulso Curse?_

The voice’s owner finally appeared in the pool of light created from the end of his wand. Her back was turned to him as she crouched among the debris, moving a rather large piece of wood to reveal Lysandra’s unconscious—he would _not_ consider whether or not she was dead, not now—form, cuts all over her face and arms. She picked up the girl’s arm for whatever reason, most likely a torturous one.

“Put it down, Bella, we mustn’t touch what isn’t…ours.” He would wonder at her return from the dead later.

She released the arm. “Ooh, that’s familiar. But we’re not in your house now, Severus. Pray tell, how is that arm yours?” She stood, eyes cast to the floor, dancing ungracefully atop the destroyed furniture.

“Dumbledore Bound her to me before I killed him,” he told her, voice dripping with pure malice as he recalled the event. He crept eve closer to the still body covered in debris.

“Aw, how sweet,” the insane witch cooed, mockery clear in her tone, “Snape’s got himself a little girlfriend.”

He rolled his eyes. “Hardly, you insufferable wench. How are you even here?” She still hadn’t looked up from her little dance, so she didn’t see the other three wizards barricading the door with their bodies as he edged toward Lysandra.

“Rodolphus wouldn’t leave me alone about making a Horcrux after we all broke out of Azkaban. Made one just to get him to shut up about it. Turns out it came in handy after all.”

 _So arrogant…_ he thought as he called, “ _Stupefy_!” She sailed into the wizards at the door, nearly losing her grip on her wand. He knelt by Lysandra’s head, wand ready, waiting for the others to restrain her.

But all she did was give him a maniacal grin before she disapparated.


	4. Nightmares

Severus shoved his wand into his pocket and felt for a heartbeat at Lysandra’s neck, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding when he found one. It was slow, but it was there. _Pull yourself together, will you? It’s not like you can’t handle Bellatrix, anyway, and even if Blackwell_ had _died, you didn’t know Bella was here. The Vow wouldn’t have been breached,_ he told himself.

 _That’s not why you were worried and you know it,_ a voice in the back of his mind argued.

 _Shut up,_ he thought at it.

The three wizards chose then to make themselves known: George and Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger.

“Is she alright?” Granger asked.

“What do you care, ‘Mione? She’s a bloody Death Eater!”

“Oh, grow up, Ronald.”

He ignored the youngest Weasley boy. “She’ll be fine, but I need to get her to Poppy. One of you three, make yourself useful and tell her we’ll need a lot of potion for broken bones and internal bleeding.”

The older Weasley quietly claimed the task and hurried off. Severus removed rubble from around Lysandra until he could lift her out. At the gasps of Weasley and Granger, he frowned and ran his gaze over her body to find what had alarmed them so, and even he winced—her right leg was broken right in the middle of her shin, the bones trying to escape from the skin.

“I’ll bet she’d be glad she’s unconscious if she saw that.”

“For once, Miss Granger, I will admit that you are probably correct.” He shifted the young woman in his arms, hoping she didn’t wake up and start screaming.

“Both of you, find Headmistress McGonagall and tell her what’s happened. She’ll want to know about this immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” Granger said before Weasley could spit out the snarky comment he undoubtedly wanted to make. “We’ll tell her to meet you in the hospital wing.”

Poppy already had a bed and assortment of potions ready for them when they arrived, with the living Weasley twin nowhere to be found. He laid Lysandra slowly and gently on the bed so Madame Pomfrey could set her leg before tipping the potion that would repair it down her throat.

“You go wait outside. I need to change her into a gown. Besides, the Headmistress is here.”

He allowed himself to be shooed away, keeping his face emotionless.

The moment the door was closed and they were in the hall, McGonagall didn’t hold back. “Severus! Is it true? Bellatrix LeStrange is here?”

“Yes, but I don’t know how she got in here unnoticed. She’s not the type to bother with a glamour or polyjuice potion, unless someone managed to convince her to use them.”

“But how is she alive? Molly Weasley killed her in the Great Hall during the battle!” she shrieked, startling Severus with her lack of a cool head.

“Oh, come on, witch, you know very well how. And what are you panicking for? It’s not like you.”

Minerva took a calming breath, willing her body to resume its usual peaceful exterior. “I’ll have Mr. Filch check the grounds to be sure there are no other escaped Death Eaters roaming about. How is she?”

“Her leg is broken badly.” The image of the bone nearly coming out of her skin popped into his head, making him grimace again. “She probably has some head trauma and internal bleeding. I’m sure Poppy will have her fixed by morning, though.”

The older witch pursed her lips and sighed, smoothing her robes. “Have Poppy let me know when she wakes up, please.”

“I will.” Minerva left to find Filch, leaving Severus standing alone in the hall. He cracked the door to the infirmary to ask, “Should I stay here, or can I go? Someone’s got to search her chambers for anything that wasn’t totally ruined.”

Poppy waved him away, still working over her patient. “Yes, yes, get out of here. She won’t be waking up for another twelve hours while that leg heals.”

“Alright. Let the headmistress know when she’s awake.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Severus let the door fall closed behind him, already knowing that Bellatrix wouldn’t have left anything undisturbed. He’d repair what he could, but he doubted Lysandra would want to go back to living there. 

* * *

 

Nine o’clock the next morning saw Lysandra waking with a groan, the ghost of a headache threatening to turn into a migraine from the light. She’d been coming and going for an hour now, but this time, she knew she was awake for good. She turned her face away from the window, squinting in an effort to make the light go away but still see where she was.

“Poppy, could you cover the windows? The light seems to be bothering her,” Headmistress McGonagall asked quietly. Almost immediately, the light dimmed to a bearable level.

“Thanks…” she breathed. She looked at the woman in the chair next to her bed. “Where exactly am I?”

“The hospital wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Do you remember what happened last night?”

“No, not—” It all came flooding back. She blanched.

“Lysandra?” Minerva placed a hand on the younger woman’s arm reassuringly.

Eyes wide, she stuttered with a shaking voice, “He…oh, my God…but, I thought, with the Vow…” tears welling in her eyes, she sat up, proving how well Madame Pomfrey had done her job when she showed no evidence of being attacked the night before. “May I have my wand?” Madame Pomfrey handed her the dark, elegantly carved piece of blackthorn. “ _Expecto Patronum_.” A smoke-like mare appeared at the foot of her bed, nodding her head and pawing at the ground, awaiting Lysandra’s message. “Please inform Professor Snape that I am awake and wish to see him,” she said, staring blankly at the sheets, trying to work out why her memory was telling her this bizarre thing.

A few minutes later, Severus opened the doors and walked in. “I believe you summoned me, Lysandra?” he greeted her, but when she just stared back with fear, confusion, and disbelief battling for the main expression on her face, he frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“I…seem to remember…no, this has to be wrong. You’d never do that. Not to me.”

“What is it, Lysandra?” Minerva encouraged her.

“A little while after we’d both gone into our respective rooms, someone knocked on my door. I opened it, and it was him, so I let him in—”

“I never left my quarters last night except to help you,” he interrupted.

She ignored him. “—and he cruciated me.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed. They all knew her quarters had been demolished as well, so she didn’t feel it needed mentioning.

Her eyes were begging him to contradict her as she began to shake, but all she found in those obsidian depths of his was thinly-veiled rage. “Severus?”

His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides quite a few times before he answered. “Miss Blackwell,” he said slowly, “I can assure you that Bellatrix LeStrange was using either polyjuice potion or a glamour charm. You know our Vow to _protect_ each other prevents me from hurting you, should I ever wish to.”

She huffed out the little breath left in her lungs. “I’m sure you can understand my confusion then, _Professor Snape_.”

“Do not mock me, girl.”

“Then stop trying to damage the bedside table,” she countered, softening.

He’d unconsciously gripped it in his anger, but let it go the moment she pointed it out to him. He flexed his hand. “Minerva, has anyone found anything at all regarding Missus LeStrange’s whereabouts?”

“Not yet. The Ministry assigned Potter as one of the Aurors tracking her down, so we’ll know when they find something.”

He nodded, beginning to pace just as two cats trotted into the infirmary. Aline wound herself around her wizard’s legs while a flash of white hurled himself into Lysandra’s arms, rubbing his head under her chin. “Hello, Zayne. Where have you been all night?” He wasn’t in her rooms when she’d gotten back the night before; Lysandra had accepted that he was probably roaming for the night. He always found her in the morning, so it didn’t worry her. Now, she was glad he’d chosen that night to sleep elsewhere.

Snape stumbled and swore rather obscenely, causing everyone to raise their eyebrows at him. “Bloody cat’s going to be the death of me.”

“Feeling a bit clumsy, are we?” Lysandra joked.

He rounded on her. “Says the woman who nearly died last night,” he snapped, embarrassed and not caring if it was a low blow.

Lysandra wasn’t fazed. “Who is also the woman that saved you from dying of your own spell.”

“You never play fair, do you?”

“Ha! As if you do, either!”

“Alright, you two, this isn’t the time for bickering,” Minerva cut in. “School starts in two weeks. You two need to get lesson plans finalized, Lysandra needs a new home, the last of the restoration needs to be finished, I need to make sure the wards are stronger around the school, and Gryffindor still needs a new Head of House!”

“You haven’t chosen one yet? I thought you’d already decided on—”

“Not now, Severus. It’s down to two people. It’ll be announced at the feast on the first day of school.”

“Bugger!” Lysandra suddenly piped in.

“And what was that for, Lysandra?” Snape inquired.

“Glad we’re back to first names,” she muttered. “My lesson plans were in my chambers. Ugh, they’re probably ripped to pieces now.” Her head fell into her hands before she continued, this time with her voice muffled against her flesh. “I’ll drive myself mad trying to rewrite them in such a short time.”

“Severus will help you,” Minerva volunteered. “You need to have them finished for the first semester, at minimum.”

“Well, since that problem is so easily solved, where do you expect me to live? I haven’t a home outside this school anymore; I certainly can’t live with my parents. They disowned me a _long_ time ago.”

Severus frowned. “You never told me that.”

“You never bloody asked!”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry. Bad childhood.”

“No excuse.”

“Right, sorry…”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake! You two bicker more than Mister Weasley and Miss Granger. Focus!”

“Sorry, Headmistress,” Lysandra muttered. Severus offered no such apology, and she held back from calling him on it, but allowed herself to glare.

“Thank you. Now,” the older witch smoothed her robes, “since you’re fine to walk, Lysandra, follow me. And you, Severus.”

“Why?” he nearly whined.

“Because I said so.”

Lysandra sniggered to herself at the mothering tone to her voice.

 

Half an hour later found them arguing about Lysandra’s living predicament in Minerva’s office. McGonagall insisted that Lysandra should stay in Snape’s quarters until another room could be prepared, but he flat-out refused to let her stay with him, insisting that there must be somewhere else available.

“Severus, I’m surprised at you,” Minerva finally said as Lysandra watched them from her chair, feeling like a child whose parents were arguing about which one would keep her after the divorce. “I thought you held more respect for her than that.”

“That is precisely why I don’t want her living with me, Minerva, even though you keep saying there won’t be anywhere else for her to stay even by the time school starts, since you won’t put her back in her own chambers.”

“I’m not going back there,” the woman in question added for good measure.

He waved her off. “Hush.”

She crossed her arms and pouted.

“You’re not making any sense, Severus.”

He let out an irritated sigh. “You know how gossip travels in this place. One of the students is bound to find out where she’s staying, and he or she will start talking to one of their friends, and so on. They’ll assume things, and her students will lose all respect for her in a matter of a month, maybe less.” That wasn’t his main reason, but it was a good enough one in his opinion.

“I resent that implication.”

“Didn’t I tell you to hush?”

“I understand, but she hasn’t anywhere else to stay!”

“I still refuse. I don’t want to share my quarters with her.”

She finally stood, fed up with him. “Severus Tobias Snape! I have lived with you before. If you could bear it then, you can certainly bear it now!”

He only stared at her for what felt like an eternity. “That was three years ago. We were in my actual house, not here in such closer proximity. I may consider you a friend at most times, but this is too much. I won’t let you see me that way.” Without waiting for a reply from either Minerva or Lysandra, he left for his quarters, leaving the two witches feeling so confused they thought, briefly, that they’d been Confunded.

Lysandra frowned. “I have seen that man near tears and he thinks I can’t take seeing him ‘that way,’ whatever it is?” she said to the door.

“I think he’s trying to protect himself more than you, my dear,” the headmistress clarified.

Lysandra growled. “I wish he’d stop trying to hide from me. I’ve been the most steady thing in his life for three years now—four in October!—and never _once_ left his side unless absolutely necessary. I saved his life I don’t know how many times. Why is he still pushing me away?”

“Did he ever tell you about Lily?”

She frowned, trying to remember. “Yes, once, last year. Not much, other than that he loved her and she was the reason he switched sides and became a double agent. I changed the subject when his eyes started to glaze over.”

“Well, she was his best friend. They were inseparable before they came to Hogwarts, and he lost her because of a stupid mistake. I’ve seen you make him smile—that’s a miracle in and of itself, Lysandra. He hasn’t had anyone to rely on since his early years as a student here. “

“But what about Professor Dumbledore? For God’s sake, Severus killed the man out of loyalty alone!”

“Yes— _loyalty_. That was all he gave Albus, not friendship. He told Albus everything because he had to in order to prove that he was on our side. Friendship and loyalty do not go hand in hand for Severus Snape. Now, I realize that he _is_ generally different with you, but _you_ must realize that he does things for you because he knows that you will be loyal to him no matter what.”

“I understand that, mostly, but he’s let me in before—”

“And how often was that because he came to you, and not merely because you are always at his side?” Minerva interrupted lightly.

True understanding jolted through her. “Oh, I suppose…never.”

“Exactly. That man would bottle up practically every emotion he ever had if it weren’t for anyone forcing him to let them out. He’s defensive and suspicious toward everything. To this day, he opens the door to his chambers with his wand ready.” She put a hand on Lysandra’s shoulder, meeting the young woman’s eyes. “He does not open up to people. His one attempt ended in disaster, and then he wasn’t even able to try again for fear of getting the person killed. He has had a wall around his heart for twenty years.”

Lysandra bit her lip. “I suppose I’ll be sleeping outside, then? Or in the Shrieking Shack?”

Minerva looked insulted. “Heavens, no! You’re staying with him whether he likes it or not, defenses be damned.”

Her mouth fell open as she stared at the headmistress. “You’re still putting me there after all that?”

“Yes,” Minerva said, as if it were the most sensible thing in the world.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll have to train Zayne to warn me whenever Severus walks into the room so I can get out of his way,” she joked with a smirk.

Minerva rolled her eyes. “Just go down there.”

“It’s now or never, yes?”

“Exactly.”

They smiled a goodbye before Lysandra left Minerva’s office, scooping Zayne up in her arms once more, murmuring everything that popped into her head as she carried him with her to Snape’s door. She knocked timidly, surprised when he opened the door only a moment later.

“Minerva’s already had house elves deliver what’s left of your clothes here. I’ve transfigured a bed for you in my study. You’ll find everything you need already waiting for you in there.” He walked away, leaving her to close the door and find her own way to the study.

She grimaced when his bedroom door slammed. “Well, this ought to be a fun stay,” she commented to her cat.

She was woken not four hours later by screams of pure, overwhelming terror. Following the sound, she saw Severus’ door ajar, with a thrashing Potions Master tangling his legs in the sheets. The small amount of light in the room made it just possible to see the sweat covering his bare chest and arms. She rushed into the room, calling out to him and shaking his shoulders in an attempt to rouse him, but he would not wake. Eventually, he took hold of her in his sleep and pulled her against him in a vice-like hold, refusing to let go. _Gods, he’s strong_ , she thought, struggling, but stopped when he actually calmed, though he never let her go. He turned over, somehow still not awake, and loosened his grip fractionally, but not enough for her to get away.

Lysandra resigned herself to her fate. _Looks like I’ll be here a while._


	5. His Crumbling Defenses

When Severus woke the next morning, he wasn’t sure he was actually awake. One of his arms was pillowing Lysandra’s head while the other was wrapped tightly around her waist. The scent of her chocolate-colored hair was all he could smell, her body pressed flush with his was all he could feel. Still half asleep, he breathed her in, pulling her closer.

It was only when she began to stir that he realized exactly what kind of position they were in. He stiffened, muscles tight with nerves. _She’s going to murder me._

She was apparently already awake. “Took you long enough to wake up,” she complained in a soft voice. “Can I have my freedom back, please?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You obviously have no idea how strong you are when you’re terrified. Let me go, please, you’ve been holding me rather tight for the past five hours.”

“Right. Sorry…” He released her and she sat up, not facing him as she lifted her nightshirt to examine her torso. When he figured out what she was looking for, he was horrified. He might be a ruthless bastard, but he didn’t hurt women unless he was imperiused. “Please tell me I didn’t bruise you,” he pleaded.

She let the shirt fall into place and smiled at him. “No, I’m fine. Come on, get up, you look positively dreadful.” She all but leapt to the floor, and left the room, clearly expecting him to follow.

He found her in the small kitchen. “What exactly happened last night…?” he ventured, almost afraid of the answer. When she looked up from rummaging through the little amount of food he kept in store, she burst out laughing. He glared at her, crossing his arms over his still-bare chest. “An answer please, Miss Blackwell,” he demanded.

Lysandra sobered upon hearing the annoyed formality. “I’m sorry, it’s just…nothing even remotely close to that happened.” She giggled, unable to stop herself, and he glared harder. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, before recalling her serious mood from a moment ago. “You were having a nightmare, so I went into your room to try to wake you up.” His eyes widened and he lost all color, knowing how he’d lashed out at people before when gripped by those dreams. “You wouldn’t, and then you just sort of grabbed me and rolled onto your side.”

He exhaled sharply, glad he hadn’t hurt her, and let his arms fall to his sides.

“What was the nightmare about?” She didn’t look up at him as she started preparing eggs the Muggle way.

His defenses shot up. He narrowed his eyes, re-crossing his arms. “Nothing of concern to you,” he snapped.

She frowned and glanced up at him. As she met the obsidian daggers his eyes had become, she flinched, looking hurt, but he didn’t soften his expression. “Of course it is. You know I just want to help, Severus.”

“I do not need your help, Miss Blackwell, and nor do I desire it.”

“Oh, come on, I’ve been with you through worse,” she urged, obviously ignoring the venom she was met with.

“Leave it, Miss Blackwell,” he growled.

She scoffed, frustrated. “What’s so different about this than anything else?”

“It matters not. I’m not one to discuss my _feelings_ , so I suggest you _leave it_.”

“I’m not asking you to get all touchy-feely! I just want to know what the nightmare was about!”

“Get out.”

“I beg your pardon?” She finally raised her eyes to meet his, resting her hands on her hips. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“Get. Out,” he repeated through gritted teeth.

“Bloody hell, Snape, why don’t you ever let me in?” she shouted, shocking him, not that he let it show. “I have tried time and again for the past three years to make it as easy as possible for you to trust me, and you still don’t. How many times have I saved your life? How many times have I convinced the Dark Lord that you were on his side?”

“That was your sodding _job_ , girl! It’s what you were supposed to do, what you were Bound to do!”

“Our Vow had no influence on _me_! Do you know why Dumbledore agreed, why he forced you into it?”

“That is irrelevant—”

“Hardly! You are a cold, untrusting man, Severus Snape, and you do little to hide it! Voldemort would have eventually seen—”

“Do not speak that name in my presence!”

“—that you didn’t trust me! You were his favorite, damn you, and he trusted those you showed confidence in. If you showed doubt, he grew suspicious. _I was saving my own life_!” The last left her breathless; she knew her throat would be sore for how loud she’d shouted it.

“Then that makes me right!”

“Hardly! Pay attention, wizard! My desire for your trust began the moment Dumbledore assigned me as your partner, _not_ the moment our Vow was forged.”

“Oh, just leave!” he finally spat, seeing she was right, but then, he’d never thought she was wrong to begin with. He just wanted her to leave. He couldn’t afford to trust anyone, no matter who they were. The only reason he’d stopped being so cold with her was because he could relax in the fact that if she wanted to live, she would have to make sure she didn’t breach the Vow. After…after Lily…he found trust impossible and his heart would not let him make himself so vulnerable again. It didn’t even matter that it hadn’t even really been Lily’s fault; he couldn’t make himself do it. And then, a few years later…by the time he was twenty-one, Lysandra’s age, he was so twisted from pain and grief and fear that he didn’t _want_ to trust anyone.

He could see the effort it took her to school her expression into one of indifference. “Fine,” she conceded. He gritted his teeth against something deep in his chest telling him to take everything back, to let her stay. He pushed it back; he would not allow himself to be as vulnerable as he was last night with her or anyone else.

Severus knew she trusted him; she proved it every day. He knew she cared about him; she proved that every day, too. She was just getting too close, seeping her way into his heart, making him care what happened to her. And Severus Snape cared for no one.

…Right?

 _Yes,_ he told himself, while he leaned against the counter, arms still crossed, as she packed her things and shrunk them to fit in her pockets. _You only got protective because of that blasted Vow. Now it’s void, so you can go back to the solitary life you had before._

He frowned. That life was chosen for him; he didn’t go twenty years without a single close relationship, aside from Albus in a way, of his own free will. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d wished so desperately for Lily back, for his best friend to have never died in the first place. He’d wanted her with him so much sometimes it was as if someone had turned his heart to glass and then shattered it on the floor.

His door slammed, but it wasn’t in anger; he’d seen the tears trying to escape from her eyes. With a groan, he dropped his head in his hands, the part of him that missed everything Lily meant to him muttering, “Snape, you dunderhead. You’ve probably just ruined her.” 

* * *

 

Lysandra went straight to Minerva’s office to tell her what had happened and ask if there were any rooms newly open that day. But, the headmistress wasn’t worried about rooms after she heard what Severus had said to the poor woman.

“Oh, that insufferable man! Why can’t he see a good thing when it’s right in front of him? This is Lily all over again!”

“Except he’s not in love with me.”

“I’m sorry, dear. We’ll find you a place to stay. Your former rooms are too unstable to stay in for now, even if you were willing to go back.”

“It’s all right, Minerva, really. I’ll…I’ll find somewhere to sleep until some of the others leave…”

There was a knock at the door. Minerva told them to come in, and the two youngest Weasley sons entered, and George spoke up. “We’re finished with our assignments, Headmistress. Is there anything else you needed us to do? Not to be rude, but Mum wants us home as soon as possible. She misses us…”

Ron patted his brother’s back a few times at the forlorn sound to his voice. He hadn’t been the same since his brother was killed.

“Of course, Mister Weasley. You’ve done so much already; I can’t ask you for anything more.” Minerva hugged him in farewell, and he hugged her back tightly.

Lysandra rose to hug him as well. He’d been one of the first and only people to defend her after the war, and he’d done so fiercely. “Thank you so much,” she said into his shoulder. “You come and see me if you ever need anything, okay?”

His answering smile as he pulled away was small and didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks, Lyssa. I knew I was right to fight for you.”

“Alright, enough touchy-feely. Come on, George,” Ron grumbled. He’d never liked Lysandra, despite his brother’s confidence in her innocence. She couldn’t take it personally, though, since he hated Snape, too.

Minerva rolled her eyes as the brothers left her office. “Well, it seems we have a room for you after all, Lysandra.”

“I’ll just go there now, then. I know where they were living; I visited George a few times when Ron wasn’t there, or if Hermione was there to distract him from me. And I still have lessons to write.” She smiled half-heartedly at Minerva as a goodbye, beginning the trek to the dungeons once more, wondering where Zayne had gotten to in order to distract herself from thoughts of Snape.

After unpacking, she spent the rest of the day and all night working on lesson plans, not getting to bed until two in the morning, glad she’d gotten them finished for almost half the semester. If she woke around her usual time in the morning, she was likely to have them finished by tomorrow night and be able to somewhat relax for the last few days until classes began.

Her mind was evidently not ready to sleep; it wandered while she absently ran her hand along Zayne’s back—he’d finally showed up at dinner time—to the argument that morning. She couldn’t figure out how it had spiraled out of control so quickly, or so _violently_. She wished Minerva hadn’t forced him to let her stay with him; then they would still have their odd little friendship. Or maybe he’d only been pretending? No, no, Severus Snape did not pretend to think good of someone unless it was true or, in Voldemort’s case, necessary for survival. He certainly never hid his disdain for their Vow, but she thought he was her friend. He’d never shunned her when she had her breakdowns; he stayed with her when she needed him the most.

She sighed, irritated. “Stop thinking about it, you’ll only run yourself in circles.”

Sensing her foul mood, Zayne curled up under her chin in an effort to cheer her up. It worked, of course. His demand for attention distracted her enough that she focused on keeping him purring, which was what eventually put her to sleep.

The next morning, she wasted no time. She made breakfast for herself and Zayne, and started on her lesson plans while she was still eating. Somewhere in the middle, she remembered that Snape was supposed to be helping her, but just summoned a house elf and asked him to get a list from Minerva of what the Ministry demanded every D.A.D.A. professor have in their curriculums.

It was again two in the morning by the time she finished, but she was too restless to sleep. She needed to move around, and Zayne was getting stir crazy even though he had plenty of room to run around. She threw a light cloak on over the nightclothes she’d changed into after showering a few hours ago and ventured into the dark corridors of the castle, not paying an ounce of attention as to where she was going. Zayne left her side almost immediately, no doubt of to chase mice or play with Aline or Crookshanks. 

* * *

Severus was having his own bout of insomnia. He wandered through the dark halls, silent as a ghost, without his wand lit; he could see just fine in the dark. After a while, he found himself outside, walking along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Once he noticed where he was, he couldn’t help but think of the last time he’d been here, the day Minerva had made Lysandra and him professors.

Why had he been so horrible to her? He knew how she was when her feelings were hurt: she’d withdraw into herself and stay that way until someone cheered her up. And it seemed she’d already done it; he hadn’t seen her once since their argument.

_I wonder if she’s just avoiding me? Gods know I deserve it._

There was a rustling sound behind him. He whirled in the darkness, pulling his wand out, only to find a figure huddled between two bushes, face hidden by the hood of a black cloak.

“Who are you and what are you doing?” he demanded.

The figure stood up, turning out to be a woman about two heads shorter than he was. “Lysandra Allovera Blackwell, _Professor_. I was trying to avoid being forced to speak to you, but apparently that failed.” She pushed back her hood, revealing accusing eyes that shone bright, icy blue, even in the scarce light of the moon.

“Carry on, then, if my presence is so unwelcome to you.” He left before she could respond, but the sound of her voice halted him once more, though he didn’t turn back.

“Did you mean any of it? What you said yesterday?” Her voice was quiet, unsure, so unlike the usual confidence she carried.

It pulled at something inside him, something he couldn’t identify. He shoved whatever it was from his mind, not giving her an answer, the only sign he was even listening being his head turned to the side in order to better hear her.

“You…you were just…I know you have a lot of defenses up and everything…I…I know Lily…”

He turned around sharply, this time angry for real. “You know _nothing_ about what losing Lily did to me,” he snarled before stalking off into the night. He heard her collapse into the brush, but he didn’t care at that point. Losing Lily was the worst thing that had ever happened to him, and he’d lost her three times: when he’d called her a mudblood, when she married Potter, and when she…when she died. Because of him.

And he’d be damned before he let himself care about anyone ever again.

 _That’s not fair, Severus,_ that stupid voice in his head argued. _You know she worries about you, and you didn’t have a problem being friendly with her before. What changed?_

He didn’t have it in him to silence it right then, so he just played along. _She started asking me to trust her. I don’t trust anyone, least of all a woman who can see right through me._

_But she can’t! You saw how upset she was. She doesn’t understand you, Severus, not completely. You never let her._

_Why should I?_

The answer he got was no longer his subconscious trying to drive him mad, but a memory from a similar argument he’d had with Dumbledore when he was telling Severus about making the Unbreakable Vow: _She could be good for you._

_She most certainly could not!_

But he didn’t know if he was trying to convince himself or the dead man.

She was waiting for him when he finally reached the steps leading up to the doors. She’d fallen asleep on the hard rock, and she looked rather cold in that thin cloak, even though it was still technically summer. It was also an ungodly hour of the morning.

He sighed. “Wake up, Miss Blackwell, unless you’d like to sleep here all night.”

Lysandra jerked awake. The look she gave him, begging him to take back what he’d said yesterday, had him gritting his teeth. “You ought not fall asleep out here. Bellatrix hasn’t been found yet.”

Her face fell. “I know. I was hoping I could ask you something.”

His lips pursed, but he didn’t say no.

Which she took as a yes. “What…what changed, yesterday?” She managed to meet his gaze, but just flinched back again. Eyes avoiding his, she stood and started for the doors.

“To be completely honest,” he called, causing her to stop mid-step, “nothing changed.” He ascended the stone steps until his eyes were level with hers. “Look at me,” he commanded softly. When she didn’t, he crooked a finger under her chin and turned her head to make her. “You are too…” Words failed him; he couldn’t think of the right way to say everything she needed to hear. He didn’t particularly want to say it, either, but he knew she would have spoken to Minerva about their fight already, and he was surprised the older witch hadn’t attacked him about it yet.

“I’m too what, Snape?”

The pain in his chest as she addressed him by his last name was reminiscent of the regret he’d felt for failing to warn her about the Dark Lord’s “initiation” of new Death Eaters, and he just looked at her, fighting the impulse to hold her face in his hands and tell her she wasn’t too anything, that she was perfect.

 _Where the hell did_ that _come from?_

She frowned, no doubt wondering why he was just standing there staring at her. “Snape?”

There was that pain again. What was the matter with him? “You’re too good to be so attached to me,” he confessed before he knew what he was saying.

Lysandra only stared at him in shock.

He chuckled despite himself, unable to hold back now. “It’s true. I don’t deserve anyone as loyal to me as you are.” He frowned. “Or were.”

“Severus. Tobias. Snape,” she whispered.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“You are the single most self-deprecating person I have ever met in my entire life.” When all he did was continue to frown, she elaborated. “You risked your life every single day to protect the child of a man you hated and a woman who shunned you but that you loved anyway. You killed a man out of sheer loyalty. You nearly blew a fuse after our Vow because I, as you said, would potentially be forced to die for a man I barely knew. You lived a solitary, focused life until three years ago in an effort to protect anyone who would be close to you from the Dark Lord’s wrath. Need I go on?” Somewhere in the middle of her speech, she had ended up holding his face in her cold hands in an effort to make him see sense.

He sighed, defeated. “Perhaps…it’s time we made up.”

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “Ugh. Come on, it’s cold out here. This is not what a summer night should feel like.”

He followed her inside, asking himself how he could have ever thought she’d just let him be. Although he was loathe to admit it, even to himself, she _did_ know him better than anyone alive, and he _did_ still feel the need to protect her. He credited the latter to force of habit; in another month, had the Dark Lord not been killed, he would have been guarding her for four years, and she him. He suspected that it would be a long time, if ever, before that habit died.

 _Bloody fool, it’s not a habit and you know it_ , his conscience snapped.

 _Shut_ up _, I beg you_ , he responded.


	6. Don't Let Go

Severus and Lysandra were seated next to each other in the Great Hall, awaiting the first years’ entrance along with everyone else. Most of the room was talking to the people around them, catching up on what had happened over the summer and making sure their friends were as okay as they could be. The absence of the students killed in the Battle of Hogwarts was impossible to miss.

The doors opened to reveal Mr. Filch leading the new students inside, and all conversation ceased. Minerva stood and strode to the owl-shaped podium. “Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When I call your names, you will come forward and sit on the stool to be Sorted into your Houses.” She stepped aside, taking a roll of parchment with her that held the names of the students.

Because of the way they were seated, Lysandra saw Severus frown whenever a student looked disappointed to be placed in his House as they both watched the Sorting Ceremony. She placed her hand over his under the table, leaning over to whisper, “Most of the Death Eaters were Slytherins, remember? Most children raised in the wizarding world have grown up despising that House since V—since the Dark Lord rose to power, if they weren’t associated with Death Eaters. Cut them some slack. Show them evidence of the man even Harry Potter defended, and they may feel differently over time.”

He cast her a small, grateful smile.

Minerva resumed her place behind the podium when the Sorting was finished. “Now, I have a few announcements to make. First, Professor Snape was kind enough to resume his position as Potions Master here at Hogwarts.” He stood for the applause, his expression telling the room he’d rather be in the dungeons. “Second, we have a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher: Professor Lysandra Blackwell.” She stood as well, smiling in happy surprise as a few of the six and seventh years cheered. “And finally, I will continue as the Transfigurations teacher until a replacement is found, but Gryffindor has a new Head of House: Professor Lysandra Blackwell.”

Lysandra rose again, surprised once more, and mouthed, “Thank you,” to the grinning headmistress. Severus congratulated her when she sunk to her chair again.

“Weren’t expecting that one, were you?”

“Let the Feast begin!” Minerva announced, arms outstretched, and food appeared on everyone’s plates.

“No, not really.”

Minerva stopped behind them on her way back to her seat. “I thought I’d give you a nice surprise, Lysandra. I would have returned you to the deputy headmistress title, but you’re really too young, dear, I’m sorry.”

Lysandra waved her off. “I only took it to keep the Carrows in line.”

“And she did a damn good job of it,” Severus added.

“I’ve decided to make you the deputy headmaster instead, Severus.”

He nearly spit his drink. “Pardon?”

“You heard me,” the headmistress said, and without another word continued to her seat.

“Congratulations,” Lysandra chuckled when the shock didn’t leave his face. “You’d better relax or the students will get suspicious.”

He immediately schooled his features into a mask of neutrality.

She teased him relentlessly for the entire meal, causing a few of the teachers and students to look at them curiously because she managed to get him to smile and then laugh outright.

The first few weeks passed without incident. The students were eager to learn, most of them weren’t going out past curfew—much—and so far none of them had showed any open dislike for her. She told Severus as much one night while they were grading papers in his study, and apparently none of his students had really shown much aversion to him, either. He left Lysandra speechless when he added that some of the sixth and seventh years had been defending them to younger students in the halls. Once the shock wore off, she asked playfully if he would watch Quidditch tryouts with her the next day.

“Which Houses will be there?” he asked without looking up from the essay before him.

“Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.”

He thought for a moment. “Very well.”

“Really?”

“I’m hoping Gryffindors will be falling off their brooms left and right.”

“Ah, that makes more sense.”

And they did, but so did the Hufflepuff students. She cheered for her House, of course, but she couldn’t resist sniggering every time he made a snide remark about any of them making the smallest mistake.

However, a pair of fourth year Ravenclaws sitting in front of them ruined her fun. “I don’t know why McGonagall lets her teach, especially Defence Against the Dark Arts. I heard all she ever did in her classes was read about Dark Magic and practise it on animals in the Forbidden Forest.”

“Why does Snape even put up with her? At least he was always on our side.”

“I don’t know. Maybe she put a charm on him or something.”

“Actually, I think I heard something about—”

“Girls,” Severus finally drawled, halting their conversation. They whipped around to face him and Lysandra, eyes wide with alarm.

“Twenty-five points each from Ravenclaw for disrespecting Professor Blackwell, and another twenty-five points each for spreading idiotic rumors. Detention tomorrow with Mr. Filch. Go to your dormitories. Now.” They practically sprinted for the castle.

Lysandra hung her head, wringing her hands and biting her lip.

“Don’t listen to them. They’re just silly girls.”

“Whatever.” She leaned into his arm, letting her head fall onto his shoulder to watch the rest of tryouts. Her eyes followed Ginny Weasley as she soared into the air, three Hufflepuffs on her tail, but didn’t follow her back down. Her brow furrowed. There was something moving in the clouds, something that shouldn’t be there. Actually, more than one something, now that she was watching it so intently. She sat up, tugging on Severus’ coat sleeve. “Severus. What’s that?” she asked, pointing into the sky.

He studied it, a line appearing between his eyes. “I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell from here…but it seems familiar somehow.” After another moment, the little color he had left his face. He stood abruptly, casting a silencing charm over the Quidditch pitch before using the _Sonorus_ charm to amplify his voice. “Students and staff of Hogwarts!” he called. Everyone stopped moving, sensing the importance of the situation. Quidditch tryouts weren’t interrupted without good reason. “I want all of you to move to the center of the pitch, _quickly_. Quidditch players, escort the younger students from the stands on your brooms, and teachers do the same. Move!” He returned his voice to normal and took hold of her wrist, dragging her back to her feet to pull her along. “I want you to cast as many protective charms around the students as you know while I fetch Minerva.”

“Wait! What’s up there?”

“Death Eaters.”

It was her turn to pale. “How?”

“Not all of them were captured, you know that, and I’m sure they’ve recruited more. Go protect the students, someone needs to tell Minerva.”

“Send her a patronus, then! I’m not letting you make yourself a bloody target running across the grounds.”

“Fine.” She heard him muttering the message for the headmistress and she gathered up the confused first and second years in their section, hurrying them down onto the pitch. “Let me, just go place the spells.”

She glanced at the sky as she ran out of the stands and onto the grass, where the older students had already formed a protective circle around the younger ones.

“Professor!” Ginny called. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you in a moment, just keep your wands ready. All of you! Wands ready!”

Severus arrived and began casting the spells with her, but the group of Death Eaters suddenly descended on them all. No time to place them now. “Sixth and seventh years!” Severus shouted above the cries of fear. “I trust you all remember how to fight! Prove it now!” The first Death Eater swooped low over the crowd. Most of them ducked. “You will not be punished for any magic you use today!”

They did, in fact, prove they remembered the Battle of Hogwarts. Many of them wore expressions of pure hatred and some of pleasure in attaining revenge for loved ones lost. A few of them covered a group gathering those who could not fight and placed them under a protective bubble of spells. Everyone added to the protection when they found a chance in order to keep the barrier strong, but eventually those who could fight were paired off and no one was able to actively shield the students anymore until Minerva arrived with more professors and seventh years, the latter of which took over the job of defending the younger students.

A familiar, maniacal laugh sounded behind Lysandra the second her opponent fell to the ground in a full-body bind. “Bellatrix,” she growled, circling the woman right away.

“Oh, look, it’s Little Lyssie,” she mocked.

Lysandra’s teeth ground together. She hated that nickname, and Bella knew it. “It appears you would still rather argue with me than face me in a duel. Scared?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. Calling her a coward was always the “best” way to get her to fight. “ _Crucio_!”

She side-stepped, barely dodging the curse.

“ _Confringo_!”

“ _Protego_!”

“ _Expulso_!” Blue light shattered the small tent that held the brooms during tryouts and practise, sending wood splinters out in all directions. With no time to react because she was standing so close to it, she could only cry out in agony when one of them embedded itself in her side and another ripped across her stomach. She fell to the ground, unable to think past the excruciating, white-hot pain traveling across her body with every breath.

“ _Langlock_!” Severus’ furious voice snarled, effectively silencing Bellatrix before she could use whatever curse was on her lips. “ _Stupefy_!” The witch flew backwards, landing in an unconscious heap on top of another downed wizard. He knelt at her side, thankful the fight was dwindling now that more were able to help, but nearly panicked when he realized that he didn’t know any spells that could really help her. “Lysandra, how deep is this?”

“I—I can’t—” She howled in pain, even though he’d barely touched it.

“I’m sorry!” He dispatched a wizard who got too close to her for his liking. _Bugger! There’s no way she can apparate, it’ll kill her._ He settled on spells to quell the bleeding while she gasped for air, unable to take a proper breath.

It seemed to take hours for the remaining Death Eaters to give up, collect their living and fly away. Medi-wizards were apparated to the pitch by professors to tend to those with the worst injuries. Severus waved one over.

“Julian Holt here. What have we got?”

“Are you blind? Look at her!”

“Sir, please, calm down. It won’t help her if you panic.”

“Why don’t you _her_ , then, and let me feel as I see fit?”

The medi-wizard ignored the last and bent over Lysandra’s trembling body. Her hands were gripping the base of the wood in an effort to hold it steady, but even if she was succeeding, the pain still made her feel as if she might black out. Holt eased her hands off the wound in order to perform spells Severus had never heard of, and with nothing to hold, one of them went in search of his hand, gripping it with bruising force.

“She’s fine to apparate now. Are you going or staying?”

“Going!”

Holt took hold of each of his passengers’ forearms and disapparated to St. Mungo’s. “You’re going to have to wait over there, Mister…?”

“Professor Snape.”

“Right, you’ll need to sit in the waiting room, Professor Snape. I’ll fetch you when she’s out.” A bed was wheeled over and other medi-wizards helped Holt ease her onto it.

Severus walked next to them until they paused at the doors he wasn’t allowed to pass. He leaned over the bed to press his lips to her hand. “You’d better come back to me, Lyssa,” he whispered, though he knew she couldn’t hear him. “If you don’t, I won’t have anyone to argue with every night.”

“Sir, you need to go sit down. Now.”

He finally obeyed after watching them leave. Of course, he couldn’t stay seated for long. After less than a minute, he was up and pacing the waiting room, drawing anxious glances from the staff and others waiting. Staff and students from the school were swiftly filling the waiting room, limiting his space, and he thought he might scream. He wracked his brain for something, anything, to distract himself with, but came up empty, and even Minerva couldn’t hold his attention for long. He eventually convinced her she should be at the school, anyway, so she would leave him alone, and so he didn’t have to tell her why he was this worried about Lysandra.

When he’d seen Bellatrix blast the tent, his heart sank on seeing the wood bury itself just below her ribs. He had to force himself not to cruciate her for daring to attack Lysandra and settle himself with stunning her instead. Yet, despite his efforts to do what he could to heal her, she’d still been carried away barely breathing anymore, and comatose. _Don’t let go,_ he pleaded to her in his head, _don’t let that woman be the one to kill you._

He had to sit down. He was getting lightheaded, the room was spinning, and it felt like the floor kept falling away from his feet. He rested his elbows on his knees and bowed his head, lacing his fingers together at the nape of his neck. _I’ve never been this close to panicking in my life._ But he couldn’t help it, couldn’t push away the feeling in the pit of his stomach that she might be beyond saving already, that she might not come back to him. He groaned inwardly. _What in God’s name has this woman done to me? I wouldn’t have been acting like this a year ago._ But then again, by this point, their Vow might have killed him for failing to protect her if she was dead. _I shouldn’t have even turned my back for a second,_ he berated himself.

It hadn’t even been a second, really. He had to spin around in order to avoid a wordless curse he had no protective charm for, and she’d vanished by the time the turn had been complete.

 _Only Bella can separate people that easily._ That voice returned, with possibly the worst timing in history. _Stop kicking yourself! You did what you could. If she dies, it’s not your fault. She’s not Lily._

_No—she’s better._

He must be possessed.

Severus resumed what he could of his pacing in the crowded waiting room.

 _What’s the difference between her and Lily?_ the voice inquired.

_Sod off._

Mercifully, a tired-looking medi-witch stepped into the room and called, “Professor Snape?”

“Yes?” he answered breathlessly, praying for good news of any kind.

She smiled wearily. “Miss Blackwell—”

“Professor, actually,” he corrected automatically.

“Oh! I’m sorry. _Professor_ Blackwell,” she amended, “is perfectly fine, but she’s going to be in pain for a couple of weeks. She’s still coming back from the potions we gave her, though, so you can’t see her quite yet, but if you’d like to wait, she’ll be awake and Healer Holt will show you to her room.”

“Thank you. Where is he now? He told me he’d be the one to inform me.”

“He’s taking her to her room. He just thought you’d like to know as soon as possible how she was doing.”

“Alright, thank you,” he repeated, and she left. Sinking into a chair, he sighed heavily, bending over with his face in his hands. Anyone else would think whoever he was waiting for had died, but he was so glad she was okay that shudders were running through his body. He let out an unsteady breath.

 _Don’t you dare cry,_ he warned his closed eyes.

 _You’re so vulnerable when it comes to her. Why is that, Severus?_ His conscience was being cruel now, taunting him. _What about her makes you so innocent?_

_My innocence disappeared long ago and it’s never returned._

_Seems your vulnerability never left._

_Leave me alone_ , he begged.

_Then answer the question._

“Professor Snape?” Holt was in the doorway recently occupied the medi-witch.

“Yes?” Severus said in the same voice he’d used earlier.

“She’s asking for you.” 

* * *

 

Severus held back from making a single sound when he saw how pale and exhausted she looked, instead choosing to sit in the chair by her bed and clasp her hand in both of his own. Holt closed the door, not even entering the room, to give them the privacy they so obviously needed.

“How are you feeling?” he questioned when her eyelids fluttered open.

She tried to take a deep breath, but grimaced when her wound prevented it. “As well as I can be, I suppose. Thought I was going to die for a minute there when we apparated,” she whispered with an unhappy smile.

“You didn’t, you just passed out.” _And gave me a bloody heart attack._

“Sorry.”

She hadn’t heard the worry in his voice, had she? “Don’t be sorry. You did nothing wrong.”

“Fine,” she conceded, too tired to argue. “I didn’t scare you did I?”

Should he tell her? What good would it do, anyhow? Then again, he couldn’t bear hurting her more than he already had…best to just be honest about it. “Yes,” he gasped out, lowering his gaze to her hand wrapped in both of his. “Yes, Lyssa, you scared me. Terrified me, really.”

He didn’t see her smile at the first use of her nickname she’d heard from him. “I’m sorry,” she repeated softly.

Severus turned his black eyes on her blue ones, brow furrowed. “Don’t do that again,” he said, still quiet, letting her in for just a moment. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t remember how to cope with the roller coaster of emotions he was still on. “Please.”

The torment he let her see gave her the strength to sit up and wrap her arms around his neck in as tight an embrace as she could manage. “Oh, please don’t look at me that way.”

He rose to sit on the edge of the bed so he could hold her closer, one arm around her torso, avoiding her injury, with his other hand knotted in her hair. _I’m never going to get tired of the way her hair smells,_ he thought with a jolt of surprise. She took this as more evidence of his distress and held him tighter.


	7. Threats and Surprises

It was only first hour on Friday, Lysandra’s first day back teaching, and already her side was giving her trouble. She quit her laps of the room to lean against her desk while the fifth years practised their counter-jinxes. This being the first day, not many of them were successful, and they were getting frustrated. She let them be, though, knowing how her frustration while learning them actually helped her get them right. She reached for the pain potion Severus had brewed her last night.

“I’ve got it!”

Potion forgotten, she took the place of the boy’s partner. “Show me.” She sent him a stinging jinx. He barely blocked it in time, but still, he’d blocked it. “Good job. Keep practising.”

“Professor!” a blond girl named Emelia called form across the room.

“Yes?” Lysandra asked, walking over.

“I can’t get it right.”

“Show me what you’ve been doing.” Emelia Crewe and her partner, Corrinna Hayley, sparred for a few minutes. “You’re just not getting the motions right. Watch me.” She nodded for Corrinna to begin, over-exaggerating the wand motions needed for the shield charms and keeping the pain from her wound off her face. “Now you try.” Emelia was somewhat better at it that time, and Lysandra felt she was able to hold her own without her professor watching her. “Good,” she praised.

She wandered back over to her desk, again reaching for the potion, but again being called to a student’s side and masking her discomfort. She was finally able to take the potion when she called an end to practise as soon as everyone had gotten the spells right at least once. Now it was lecture time.

“Okay,” she said after everyone was seated, “first off, does anyone have any questions about today’s spells?” Mason Garnett raised his hand. “You.”

“What exactly happened on Sunday at Quidditch tryouts, Professor?” he asked. “I heard that a bunch of Death Eaters and Snatchers apparated onto the pitch and attacked everyone.”

The class was on the edge of their seats, every eye fixed on her. “Actually, Mister Garnett, that is not exactly the case. They did not apparate onto the pitch, and there were no Snatchers. Death Eaters were lying in wait in the clouds above the pitch. They took all their living with them when they fled, so we don’t know why they were here.”

Corrinna’s hand shot in the air. “Miss Hayley?”

“Did sixth and seventh years really get to fight?”

Lysandra nodded. “They did. However, that is because nearly all of them participated in the battle last year.”

Emelia’s hand was suddenly right next to her shoulder. “Miss Crewe?”

“How come the Ministry still hasn’t found Bellatrix LeStrange?”

Lysandra frowned. “I’m not sure I understand. What importance does Missus LeStrange hold over the others?”

“Well, she attacked you about a month ago, didn’t she? She could have killed you, but she let you live.”

Lysandra gaped at her. Minerva had assured her that no one but those who’d been directly involved and the Ministry would know about Bellatrix breaking into the castle. “How do you know about that?” she snapped.

Emelia seemed to realize her folly. “N-Nevermind, Professor B-Blackwell.”

Her hands went to her hips, causing her to look the slightest bit imposing in her dark gold robes. “I do not tolerate insubordination in this class, Miss Crewe, which you very well know.”

“I d-don’t know their n-name, P-Professor.”

Lysandra narrowed her eyes at the girl for a few moments before pulling her up by her forearm. “Come with me. Class dismissed. Read the chapter on vampire bats.”

She nearly dragged Emelia down to the Potions classroom, neither saying a single word. She left Emelia just outside the door to poke her head into the room, where Severus was giving a lecture of his own.

“You will know you’ve brewed the Draught of Peace incorrectly if—”

“Professor Snape?”

“What do you want, Professor Blackwell? I’m in the middle of a class, or hadn’t you noticed?”

A student sitting right in front of him had the nerve to whisper something and was swiftly met with a smack on the back of his head.

“I have a bit of a problem I need to discuss with you.”

“I’m sure it can wait.” His patience was clearly wearing thin.

“Severus.”

He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “Fine. Get to work, all of you. I want complete silence.” He made his way to the door, leaving it open a couple of inches so he could make sure no one got brave. “What do you mean by interrupting my class?” When he finally noticed Emelia, he added, “And why is Miss Crewe here?”

“Miss Crewe somehow has knowledge of Bellatrix LeStrange’s antics in the castle prior to the start of term,” Lysandra told him quietly. “She claims no knowledge of her source’s identity.”

Severus turned his famous all-knowing star on the girl, demanding in his most intimidating voice, “Would you happen to know where we might find this source, Miss Crewe?”

Even Lysandra shivered at the threat in his low, cold voice, and suspected Emelia answered out of fear alone, brown eyes trapped by his black. “I-I don’t know, sir.”

“Then how did they inform you?”

“They sent me an owl. The note said I had to mention it to Professor Blackwell somehow and that if I didn’t they would know and they would hurt me.”

“What did the owl look like?”

“I-I don’t know…”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Did you not look at it when you took the parchment from it?”

“Severus,” Lysandra chided softly, placing a hand on his arm. “Breathe.”

He took a deep breath.

“Miss Crewe, I assume you still have the note?” Emelia nodded frantically. “Good. Go get it, and then bring it to Headmistress McGonagall’s office.”

Once the girl was gone, Severus took another breath and stepped into his classroom. “Class dismissed. Clean up your stations before you go. This will not be a repeat event.”

Severus was pacing in Minerva’s office behind the chair Lysandra sat in, pinching the bridge of his nose, while the three waited for Emelia to arrive.

“Who could have told her? You both told me the Weasley boys and Hermione Granger were the only others that saw Bellatrix that night; I know none of them would do it.”

“I don’t know, Minerva. We’ll have to do what we can with the note miss Crewe received.”

As if on cue, Emelia timidly entered the room from the stairs. Lysandra frowned. “How did you know that password?”

“Mister Filch said it for me. He knew I was supposed to be coming up here.”

“Indeed. He was eavesdropping earlier,” Severus finally spoke.

Minerva began to pepper Emelia with questions, nearly all of which she could not answer. Severus performed various spells to determine who wrote the note, muttering to himself that he should bloody well know who it was because he’d only seen a script like that once before. By the time Emelia was allowed to leave and Severus was irritated enough to abandon the note for the time being, Lysandra was dozing off in her chair with her head resting on the back of it.

“Minerva, have you seen the note yet?”

“No, Severus, just leave it there. I’ll look at it in the morning.”

He growled impatiently but didn’t respond.

“Nobody’s in danger for now, they just want to scare us. It’s late; we’ve been here all day. Let’s go to bed.”

It could have been a trick of the light, but she could have sworn his face colored the slightest bit. “I would feel better if you weren’t sleeping alone.”

“The wards are strong, Severus, she’ll be fine,” Minerva reasoned.

“That’s what we all thought a month ago, but Bella still go in.”

“What, are you going to come sleep with me, then?” Lysandra teased him, raising her head from the back of her chair.

She knew his cheeks colored that time _._ “Fine, have it your way. Don’t expect me to come to your rescue again.” With that, he stormed out of the office.

She said a quick goodnight to a chuckling Minerva and hurried after him.“Severus!”

He ignored her.

“Severus, wait! I’m sorry!”

He turned on her then, so sharply that she nearly collided with him. The venom in his tone when he spoke stunned her. “You are making jokes at my expense while there is some witch or wizard flaunting their ability to reach you. Probably more than one, really, seeing as Bellatrix would have killed you already if she was working on her own and the note’s not from her.”

“I am not afraid of some coward who would rather have others come after me than do it themself.”

“Well, you should be!” His voice rang out in the corridor, echoing off the walls.

Lysandra kept her voice soft in an effort to calm him. “Why are you acting this way? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“Because the woman I—”

She frowned and tilted her head, curious.

“Because the woman I promised to protect is in danger and she won’t see it.”

“Severus, that was only under the Vow—”

“Which is no longer ‘null and void.’ Or had you missed the swarm of Death Eaters six days ago?”

“Whatever. Come on, let’s just go to bed. I’m sure we’re both tired.”

He visibly relaxed, though Lysandra suspected it was forced. “Very well.”

She took the arm he offered, grateful for the support, as she felt like she could fall over any minute. When they reached the dungeons, her head was resting on his arm and they were talking quietly about nothing of importance, simply enjoying each other’s company.

Zayne and Aline came running toward them. They picked up their cats, ready to take them inside for the night, when Lysandra found a small piece of rolled-up parchment tied to Zayne with a ribbon around his neck.

“Severus, wait,” she said, before he could close the door to his chambers.

He stepped back into the hall, but let the door fall shut behind him. “Do you need something?”

            “Yes. Here, hold him.” She passed the white cat to her friend’s arms so she could untie the ribbon and read aloud what was written on the parchment.

 

_Miss Lysandra Blackwell,_

_You would do well to remember that not even your_

_precious Severus Snape can protect you from us._

_We are watching you. The castle cannot hide you._

Severus gripped her wrist and pulled into his chambers, slamming the door and warding it. “You will not leave these rooms unless I am with you.”

“No problem there,” she agreed, frozen where she was.

“I’ll have Minerva find a substitute to your classes.”

“Fine.”

He put his hands on her shoulders to guide her to the black leather couch, pushed her down on it, and lit the fire. He took a blanket from the back of a chair and draped it over her before taking a place next to her and placing his arms on the back of the couch. “I will not let them get to you.”

Her only answer was to let herself fall sideways until she was practically lying over him, with her head on his chest. Wrapping the blanket more snuggly around her, she pushed her shoes off her feet to bring her legs up under her chin. Curled up in his side, she felt safe, like they couldn’t see her anymore.

Severus brushed the hair from her face and wrapped an arm around her. “I will not let them get to you,” he repeated, seeing the vulnerability in the way she folded in on herself. He forgot, at times, that she wasn’t as old she was forced to act so recently. He remembered, though, that she had always been most afraid when she could not see what was coming for her; he’d discovered this during a practise duel, two years ago, where they were fighting in the dark and he forbade her from using any sort of light spell.

She had promptly collapsed in all-consuming terror.

Lysandra was half-asleep when it occurred to her that she liked being held by him. Just this once, she allowed herself to indulge in his presence, using the excuse that she was tired and afraid of what she couldn’t see. The closer she got to sleep, the further she slid down his chest. She was just awake enough to know that he very gently repositioned them both to lie on the couch with his arm still around her. She snaked an arm across his stomach on reflex and let blackness take her. 

* * *

 

Severus woke to Lysandra in his arms for the second time the next morning, but without the confusion of the first time, and was grateful that he’d been nightmare free for once. Since it was a Saturday, he let her sleep; she looked so peaceful, he was unwilling to disturb her anyway. However, he couldn’t reach his books from the couch, and nor could he reach his wand on the coffee table, so he settled himself with twirling a lock of her hair around his fingers as entertainment.

It wasn’t long before she woke of her own accord, starting to stretch before she noticed she was on the couch with the Potions Master. “Oh. Good morning.”

“Forgot where you were, did you?”

“For a moment.” Eyes never opening, she decided to stretch what she could from where she was and snuggled closer to him.

 _She_ can’t _be fully awake yet._

But she was, and she couldn’t make herself get up, despite screaming at herself in her head that she had no business cuddling up next to him this way. She hadn’t thought about it the last time she was in this sort of position, but her body fit perfectly against his, and that frock coat he always wore was surprisingly soft. Without thinking what she was doing, she ran her hand over it to play with the buttons, lifting her head when they went in different directions and her hands found warm, smooth skin.

Apparently he’d undone all of them after she’d fallen asleep, even the ones on the crisp, white shirt he wore underneath. She blushed.

“What? Those cold hands of yours belie how bloody hot you are.” He didn’t stop knotting her hair around his fingers.

Lysandra knew what he meant, but her blush deepened. She occupied herself with the buttons of his frock coat as she had originally intended, feeling shy. “So,” she said, changing the subject, “how long am I staying?” She knew she wouldn’t be able to relax even the smallest bit alone in her own quarters, and she knew he wouldn’t have a problem letting her sleep here if it was to protect her, especially considering she knew about his nightmares now.

“As long as you need to.”

 _That may be forever now._ “Thanks. How’d you sleep?”

“Nightmare free, for once in my life.”

“Good.”

Zayne and Aline hopped onto his chest, nuzzling their owner’s cheeks, not doubt asking for food. Moving his hand from her hair to her waist, Severus summoned a house elf to ask for breakfast for the two felines; he appeared not a minute later with it, keeping any comments about Severus and Lysandra together on the couch to himself.

“I think we should get up…” Lysandra murmured. “Are you hungry? I could make you breakfast.”

“Nonsense, you’re the guest. I’ll do it.”

“Oh, really? You can cook the Muggle way?”

“Well, no…”

She grinned. “Exactly. Let me.”

They disentangled themselves, stood, and Severus removed his teaching robes and frock coat to undo the rest of the buttons of the white shirt. He also undid the buttons at his wrist to push the sleeves up to his elbows. Lysandra tried not to stare as heat reached her cheeks again. She removed her own robes, leaving her in grey trousers and a deep green blouse.

He cocked an eyebrow. “You look like a Slytherin.”

“You were bound to rub off on me sooner or later.” Not wanting to get the expensive shirt dirty while she cooked, Lysandra started to unbutton it and couldn’t help but laugh went his eyes widened and he watched her hands in astonishment. “Relax, will you?” She took of the blouse to reveal a black camisole underneath.

She walked to the kitchen, searching for what she needed. She had to transfigure most of it; he obviously didn’t eat here very often. He offered to help and refused to take “no” for an answer, so she gave him a relatively easy job to do.

As they prepared the food, her mind wandered back to only a few minutes ago. She’d seen more than just surprise in his face when he thought she was taking all her clothes off, but she couldn’t find a name for it.

Deep in thought, she reached across him to get a knife, but her arm was too short. When she pulled back, her arm brushed across his chest, and she heard him hiss in a breath. She looked up at him, but she didn’t find annoyance in his gaze. His black eyes pinned her where she was with that emotion she couldn’t name. She expected him to turn away and pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened, but he did something entirely different.

He kissed her.

And she was bloody well not complaining, either.

His lips crushed against hers with more passion than anyone she had ever kissed before, not that she had a long list to go on. He buried his hands in her hair as his body pinned hers to the counter. Her hands cupped his face, rising up on her tip-toes in an effort to be closer to him. His hands left her hair only to pick her up by the backs of her thighs and set her on the countertop.

They pulled away from each other, breathless. “Where did that come from?” she gasped out.

He thought a moment. “I…I’m not sure.” Regret crossed his face. “I’ve crossed some line, haven’t I?”

He started to back away from her, but she drew him back by his shirtfront. “Where do you think you’re going?” she asked before pulling his lips back to hers.


	8. Overexposure

Severus had finally convinced her that they needed to talk, rather than snog all day, much as he would like to, but they were interrupted by a knock on the door. Severus answered it warily, only to find it was Minerva. She eyed them both for a moment before speaking.

“It’s a Hogsmeade weekend, or had you forgotten? You’re both required to chaperone.” She left without another word.

Lysandra magically cleaned the kitchen and reversed the transfigurations she’d performed as Severus dressed in his usual. He walked her to her own rooms, where she speedily changed into a beige, knee-length skirt, a deep red, off-shoulder blouse, and black flats. As it was still rather warm out, she slipped on the lightest teaching robes she could find, which were thin enough to see through if the light hit them right, and were black like his.

They half-ran to the Entrance Hall, meeting the other professors and the students. Minerva gave them a cool look before announcing to the crowd that they could leave. Within ten minutes, everyone had separated into groups or pairs. Lysandra had taken Severus’ arm, much to the onlookers’ shock when he didn’t object, but when he noticed said shock, he tried to pull away. Lysandra didn’t let him, however, and after another few minutes, they’d both forgotten about it. Severus suggested they go to the Three Broomsticks to get something to eat when they arrived in the village; Lysandra nodded emphatically. She was starving, and it was already lunchtime.

He ordered a glass of firewhiskey when they were finished, and Lysandra just shook her head, ordering a gillywater for herself.

“I don’t understand how you can drink that. It burns more than Muggle alcohol.”

He smirked. “That’s why I like it.”

She just rolled her eyes.

Minerva joined them then, sliding into the booth next to Lysandra. “Good afternoon, Professors.”

“Hello, Minerva,” Lysandra responded, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I was just hoping for an explanation as to why I found you in Severus’ chambers this morning.”

She blushed, but before she could speak, Severus answered, “It was my fault, really. Someone had attached a threatening note to Zayne, and he and Aline found us just as we reached my door. She read it aloud to me, and I pulled her inside. She fell asleep, so I let her have my bed rather than stay on the couch, and we both forgot it was a Hogsmeade weekend by the time she insisted on making breakfast.”

Just as they both knew she would, Minerva focused on the note above everything else. “What did the note say, Lysandra?”

“Here, I brought it with us to make sure no one else found it.” He reached into a pocket inside his robes, pulling out the small piece of parchment and handing it to the headmistress.

The older woman gasped. “Have you performed any spells to—?”

“No. Lysandra was rather upset, so I was calming her down. By the time she fell asleep, I was rather exhausted myself, so I followed suit on the couch after giving her my bed.”

“Well, I’ll just go perform them, then. This needs to be dealt with immediately. Severus, keep her close.”

He looked at her as if she’d gone blind and gestured to Lysandra. “Have I not been in here with her all day? I haven’t let her be more than ten feet away other than when she was asleep.”

Minerva ignored him, promptly leaving the table to rush out the door and presumably back to the castle.

Severus and Lysandra remained in the Three Broomsticks for the rest of the day, keeping an eye on the students that passed though. Quite a few warnings were given out, but no one was sent home, mostly due to the fact that two former Death Eaters, however fake, were there, not to mention every student seemed to think Professor Snape had eyes in the back of his head and they were afraid of him anyway.

“Professors,” Madame Rosmerta called, “All the students are long gone. I would have thought you two would be out of here by now.”

Lysandra swore. They were supposed to return at curfew to make sure the students did, as well, and it was far past that time by now. She and Severus rushed out the door with a quick thanks to Madame Rosmerta to do a quick sweep of the village, relieved to find no students there.

About halfway to the castle, Severus stopped them, listening hard.

“What is it?” Lysandra breathed with a small shiver. It’d gotten rather cold since the sun went down.

“Nothing. Here, you look like you’re freezing.” He shrugged out of his robes and helped her put them on over her own. Pulling them tightly around her, she linked her arm in his and walked as close to him as she could.

Not five minutes later, he stopped them again. She’d heard the rustling sound, too, this time and searched the dark treeline.

“It’s probably just an animal, Severus. Nothing to worry ab—”

Strong arms ripped her from his side and pulled her into darkness before either could react, and he was bound and silenced with magic. She kicked and yelled, unable to reach her wand, and her captor freed her of both sets of robes to make sure she was further incapable of reaching it. She froze as she was held roughly against a man’s chest, stunned silent and still at how quickly she and Severus had been restrained. They used to be Death Eaters, for Circe’s sake! And the two highest ranked, at that! You can’t climb that high without a certain amount of skill, and here they were, at the mercy of at least two strangers, for the man holding Lysandra wasn’t the one to magically bind Severus.

Bellatrix stepped into the small pool of moonlight on the path, laughing crazily. Severus made a face as if he were growling at her. “Lucius, let the girl go. You have a wife.”

The man let her go, shoving her forward with such force that she fell to the ground. He did, in fact, reveal himself to be Lucius Malfoy when he joined Bellatrix.

“What do you want?” Lysandra snarled, giving them a glare worthy of her fellow captive.

“Oh, nothing, we’re just proving a point,” Bella replied, looking Severus up and down as she circled the man, trailing her wand over his frock coat in the process.

Lysandra scoffed. “What point?”

It was Lucius who answered her. “Severus cannot protect everyone, despite his confidence in his ability to do so.”

“What are you going to do, cruciate me again? I’ve been cruciated by Voldemort himself; _your_ Cruciatus will be a bloody walk in the park.”

“She’s half right,” Bellatrix said to Lucius. “Should we tell her, Lucius?”

The blond man sneered at Lysandra, who hadn’t bothered trying to stand. She glanced at Severus, who she knew was trying to come up with wordless, wandless magic that might help them.

“Let’s just show her.”

“ _Crucio_!” they said at the same time, inflicting unbearable agony all over her body. She would have preferred Voldemort’s cruelty over taking the curse from them both. She screamed her throat raw until the pain was so great that she couldn’t make a sound, only writhe and thrash on the dusty ground. In another part of her mind, she knew that she had to detach herself as she did when she was a Death Eater or she would go mad, and felt the bond to Severus through the Vow when she finally managed it.

It was putting him in pain, too.

 _No!_ she mentally cried. _No, there’s nothing he can do…_

He exhaled heavily somewhere behind her.

Lucius and Bellatrix lifted the curse for two seconds, letting her think it was over, then redoubled their attack on her.

She had no idea how much time had passed when they finally released her for good, lifted the charms from Severus, and disapparated before he reached his wand. She was gasping for air, fighting the blackness threatening to overtake her as he summoned a fuzzy patronus to inform Minerva they needed help immediately and to lead her and anyone else she gathered to where he and Lysandra were.

Gingerly, her wrapped her in their robes and enveloped her body in his, pulling her to sit up so that her back was against his chest and his legs were on either side of her. His arms closed around her torso; she clung to what she could reach of him, sobbing as he pressed his lips to the spot where her shoulder met her neck.

Tremors began seizing her while they waited for help to come; she was bound to have after-effects from such long exposure to the curse. He was shaking, too, but for completely different reasons. He removed his frock coat as quickly as possible to wrap her in it in an effort to calm her, and it worked the slightest bit, but he knew she would be damaged from her over-exposure.

She turned in his arms, seeking to face him. He loosened his hold just enough that she was able to move her legs to rest on his left thigh, although she was still in a ball for the most part. She put one arm around his neck, the other clutching his white shirt.

By the time Minerva and various other professors to whom Severus paid no mind finally arrived, she had finished crying, but was still shuddering violently every two minutes, every muscle in her body tensing as she shook.

Madame Pomfrey performed a few spells Severus didn’t know to delay the tremors enough so that they would only come after ten minutes, then barked, “Well, come on! Those won’t hold forever, and I would rather have some potions in her by the time it wears off!”

Severus gathered her in his arms rather than levitate her, knowing she’d need the contact.

“What happened?” Minerva demanded.

“Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix bound and silenced me with magic while they—” His words stuck in his throat. He took a shaky breath before he could finish, but his voice still shook. “…while they cruciated her. Both of them. She was able to detach herself and prevent the Vow from killing me, but they paused, and when they began again I thought they might drive her mad.” Severus held her tighter in his arms, shivers of his own racing up and down his spine.

The headmistress gasped. “Good Heavens. Why would Missus LeStrange let her live a second time?”

“I think the better question would be, why is she working with Lucius Malfoy? Or better yet, who are they working for? Neither of them wrote that note, and they have little patience with each other. They wouldn’t work together by choice, Lucius especially. He’s been looking to defect, or so I thought.”

Minerva thought as she opened the gates to the school to let everyone inside. “How long do you think it will take her to recover?”

“I honestly have no idea. I’ve seen people tortured longer than she was, but I never saw them after the fact unless I happened to be ordered to kill them at some later date. I wasn’t paying much attention to their mental states at that point.”

“You’ll need to keep an eye on her then, and I’ll hear no objections to her staying in your rooms this time.”

“I wouldn’t want to give any.”

Minerva visibly started at that.

Severus growled at her, insulted. “I may do everything in my power to convince people otherwise, but I _do_ have a heart, Minerva. This woman has been the deciding factor between my life and death dozens of times in the last four years. She tried to persuade Albus that she should kill him rather than me, _just_ for the sake of saving my soul, which I owe her many times over for the number of times she actually convinced the Dark Lord to let someone else kill whatever Muggle he wanted to sic me on. Even without the Vow, she is the fiercest protector I have ever met!”

He’d stopped walking during his tirade, not knowing he’d overreacted until someone muttered something rude under their breath, and found Madame Pomfrey and the other professors Minerva had brought along staring at him, eyes bugging out of their heads.

Severus forced the color to stay off his cheeks and shifted Lysandra in his arms, hoping she was too far gone to have heard him.

Not-so-subtly changing the subject, Minerva motioned for everyone to start walking again, inquiring, “Perhaps I should owl Bill Weasley to ask if he could substitute for Lysandra until she’s well enough to teach?”

“No, ask George. Bill is in Egypt again, and George has Ronald co-running Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes with him, so his business will be taken care of. He needs more to occupy his time, though.” They were all giving him that look again. He rolled his eyes. “You all know she writes him, and you all know she’s the only person in the castle who’ll put up with me for more than ten minutes, with the exception of Minerva. She tells me about him.”

“Probably as pillow talk,” Professor Vector muttered.

“Septima,” Severus called, in his most intimidating Death Eater voice, “it would be wise for you to keep your opinions to yourself.”

The younger woman held her tongue. 

* * *

 

Upon reaching the hospital wing, Severus placed Lysandra, who had let her mind retreat into unconsciousness by now, on the bed Poppy indicated she wanted the woman on and paced the room while the matron worked on his only friend. He’d forgotten that his robes and frock coat had been wrapped around her until Poppy returned them and Lysandra’s robes to him.

Surely the Ministry would turn a blind eye should Severus use the Killing Curse on Lucius and Bellatrix?

 _No, I’d rather kill them slowly._ After all, getting away with murder was second nature to him now.

He swore to himself. It would be second nature for them, too.

Poppy placed a light hand on his arm to get his attention. He jumped, lost in his thoughts. “She may be waking up soon. You should sit with her.”

“‘May?’”

“I’ve given her potions to reduce as much of the after-effects as possible, but her mind could keep her asleep like this until they’ve nearly disappeared completely.”

“How long would that be?”

“Up to a month, if they’re severe enough.”

He swore again, a word no other being should be allowed to hear. Poppy’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. Muttering a quick apology, he went to Lysandra’s side, cursing the sisters of Fate for landing her in here twice in two months, and for basically the same reason.

He’d been perched on the edge of her bed for hours, playing with her hair, her hands, and generally astounding himself with his need to do something other than just sit there and watch her, but knowing that Minerva was handling it and giving them the space they needed. His neck and back ached from sitting in one position so long, but he didn’t care.

As he ran his fingers through her hair, he flashed back to that morning. It felt like days ago when he’d kissed her for reasons even he didn’t know. He had no idea she’d been thinking of him that way, for why else would she kiss him back if she wasn’t? He felt guilty, though, as if he was betraying his love for Lily somehow. _That’s ridiculous. Lily’s been dead almost as long as Lysandra’s been alive._ The thought made him grimace; that meant he was nearly twice her age. She couldn’t possibly want anything to do with anyone his age beside friendship.

Although, he had to admit, he didn’t feel as guilty as he would have three months ago.

He switched to playing with her hands again.

“Sev…Severus?” she groaned, groggy from the potions.

“Welcome back,” he responded quietly. “How are you feeling?”

She smiled weakly, eyes only half-open. “A little better. Whatever potions Poppy gave me are divine. I can’t feel a thing.”

He sighed in relief. “Good. I know we were already planning for you to stay with me based on the note alone, but Minerva has decided that you should stay with me until you’re alright.”

“Good, maybe now people won’t accuse you of holding me captive.”

He rolled his eyes. “They’ve accused me of worse regarding you. And since you’ll be in no condition to teach for a while, I persuaded Minerva to owl George Weasley about taking your place.”

Her eyes lit up. “You are wonderful! He’ll be _so_ grateful for the position. He really does need—”

“—a better distraction, I know. That’s why I volunteered him for the job. Well, and because I saw him in the Battle of Hogwarts. Right nasty hexes he’s got, that one. Caught me with a few. Serves me right; I did sever his ear, after all, even if I _was_ aiming for another Death Eater.”

Lysandra mustered what she could of a laugh, shaking her head at him. “Well, you were a right nasty bastard while you played Death Eater; only makes sense for you to receive some right nasty hexes.”

He grinned. “Vengeful, are we?”

She snorted. “I am _extremely_ vengeful.”

“You really are.”

She hit him, albeit weakly.

“Poppy,” Severus called, “I think she’s well enough to leave.”

The matron hadn’t been able to avoid hearing the whole conversation and thoroughly agreed with him. “You’ll need to brew her calming and sleeping draughts as she needs them, but yes, she can leave.”

“Why a Sleeping Draught instead of a dreamless sleep potion?” Lysandra asked.

“You can become immune to dreamless sleep potions, remember? A Sleeping Draught is stronger; it’s harder to build immunity. Most never do unless they use it every night for years. You can build immunity to a dreamless sleep potion in a week,” Severus clarified.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

He helped her stand and slip into his robes—which, he now noticed, were vastly too big for her—because the castle was chilly at night, so her thin ones would be as ineffectual inside as they had been outside.

On their way to his chambers, Zayne hurled himself into her arms, nearly knocking her over in her weakened state. Severus caught her, barely, before she could tumble to the stone floor and wind up back in the hospital wing. The little white cat pressed himself into her, sensing there was something wrong with her.

“I’m fine, I swear,” she assured him as he put his front paws on either of her shoulders and nuzzled her chin with the top of his head. Aline, never far behind her playmate, appeared from the shadows to wind herself around Severus’ ankles, nearly tripping him once again.

Severus picked her up to hold her with his right arm and placed his left hand on the small of Lysandra’s back in a moment of déjà vu; the last time their familiars had greeted them in this hallway, it had been succeeded by Lysandra discovering a threat tied around Zayne’s neck.

The young woman turned her gaze on him with a raised eyebrow, her expression asking, “And what’s that for, exactly?”

“I think I’m entitled to feeling protective after the last two days.”

“I suppose,” she conceded as they came to his door.

He murmured the password that would allow them passage through the wards and stepped inside, letting Aline jump to the ground just as Zayne left Lysandra’s arms. Zayne promptly occupied himself with doing everything in his power to annoy Aline.

“Oi! Behave yourself, young man,” his mistress chastised. He ignored her completely.

Severus decided it was as good a time as any to talk about that kiss. He turned to her. “Lysandra, about this morning—”

“Oh, gods,” she interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose, “please don’t tell me you’re going to say we should just pretend it didn’t happen.”

His brow furrowed. “I actually hadn’t worked out what I was going to say yet, but now that you mention it…why does it sound like you feel the opposite?”

She blushed. “Oh, well, I just, you know, feel differently, and I was wondering what exactly came over you…”

He had gone over and over it in his head while she was sleeping. Truth be told, she had smelled like jasmine, and when she’d reached across him and pulled back, he’d been so overcome by the scent of her that it had driven him mad with wanting.

He laughed inwardly. There was no way he was telling her that. The only reaction he would get would be jokes, he was sure.

“I’m not sure,” he lied.

Lysandra narrowed her eyes; she knew he was lying. “What was it, Severus?”

The Potions Master sighed. He knew that look; she’d never give up. _Merciless witch,_ he thought as he resigned himself to telling her the truth. He crossed his arms, feeling exposed without his frock coat on. “You smell like jasmine,” he began awkwardly.

She cocked an eyebrow again. “I’m aware of that.”

Avoiding her eyes and in a rare show of shyness, he shrugged and explained, “I like the way jasmine smells. You’re rather…attractive. Figure it out.”

Lysandra bit her lip to keep from laughing at the poor man’s awkwardness. It was so unlike him; she found it endearing. She closed the space between them. “Severus,” she said softly. When he didn’t turn his head to face her, she cupped his cheek to make him and met his onyx eyes with her blue-topaz ones. “Severus, did I not kiss you back? You need not fear rejection from me.”

He frowned. “What the bloody hell does that mean?”

“It _means_ …I blushed this morning at discovering your coat and shirt unbuttoned not because of modesty. And surely you know what it means when a woman kisses you back?”

“I see…”

She chuckled. “Listen, though: I know you still love Lily. I know you must feel like you’re betraying her somehow, and I’m sorry for that. But if that ever…stops…I’ll be waiting.” She stretched up on her toes and gave him what she intended to be a quick peck on his cheek, but he turned to take her mouth with his rather forcefully. When they came up for air, they were breathing heavily like they were that morning. _He is a damn good kisser,_ she mused.

With that, he left her to take a shower. She grinned, enjoying the mental picture.


	9. When the Tension Breaks (Ultimatum)

Lysandra had been there for all of one week, and already she was driving Severus mad.

He suspected his sudden, ever-present desire to pin her to the couch or the wall or his bed and kiss every inch of her was due to her admission that night seven days ago, coupled with how she looked every night when he finally returned from supervising detentions, grading papers, or doing rounds in the corridors.

She’d be curled up on the couch with her nose buried in one of his books, one or both of their cats snuggled up into her side or on her lap. It was always late enough that she would be in her nightclothes: generally a pair of skimpy, white, patterned shorts and a black, skin-hugging camisole or tank top, both of which frequently rode up to reveal even more of her creamy flesh to him.

The first thing he did upon walking inside was toss his robes over her and tell her to cover the hell up. All she did was smirk or roll her eyes and toss them right back at him.

Tremors still arrested her every few hours, for which he would always leave her some vials of calming draught each morning, but the mental effects had yet to show. Severus knew that they could be delayed, however, so he wouldn’t have let her return to her own rooms even if the tremors stopped.

Lysandra also had a habit of falling asleep on his shoulder nearly every night, further testing his control when he had to carry her to her bed. It’d become ritual for him to drop a light kiss on her temple before leaving her for his own room.

When Saturday came, Severus thanked Fate that it wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend, resolved to stay in his chambers with Lysandra and let the stress from the drama and busy schedule of the last two weeks fade from his body, but was dismayed to find that the woman had other ideas.

“I’m going to see George, Severus. Are you coming or staying?”

He groaned inwardly from where he was sprawled on the couch, letting the book he’d been reading fall onto his chest. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

She glared at him. “What are you complaining about? I didn’t order you come with me, only asked if you were.”

“I promised Minerva I’d stay near you.”

“Oh, please. I need a babysitter no more than you do,” she snapped.

Severus gave her a dry look. “As if I don’t know that. You are the most powerful witch in England that I am aware of, Miss Granger being the only possible rival due to her more well-rounded knowledge of spells.”

“Brightest witch of her age, indeed. You may have dubbed her ‘Gryffindor Princess’ as a joke, but she’s bloody well earned the title.”

“Yes, and you can be the honorary Slytherin Princess,” he drawled sarcastically.

“We’re getting off-topic. Are we going to see George or not?”

He sneered in distaste. George Weasley may now be significantly more subdued than the others of his clan, but William was the only offspring of Arthur and Molly that Severus had been able to tolerate before the war. Even after said war, the remaining twin was too despondent for Severus to put up with.

“You cannot begrudge me a visit with someone whose other half was murdered yet still stepped up to defend your only friend when no one besides yourself was willing to.”

Severus grumbled some other kind of acerbic comment before hauling himself from the couch to get dressed, returning minutes later in his typical black ensemble. Aline made to scamper off as the pair left the chambers, but jumped up to perch on her master’s shoulder when Zayne opted to be carried by his mistress, not wanting to be parted from her new friend.

“It seems your antisocial familiar has taken a liking to mine,” Lysandra observed.

“Yes, she seems to have followed in my footsteps: she found and latched onto a point of light in her otherwise dark environment.” His arm went around her to place his hand on her hip and pull her into him. She let her head tip into his arm, biting her lip to keep from smiling like a fool. 

* * *

 

Lysandra instantly went into protective-older-sister mode when a depressed-looking George opened his door for them, drawing a worried cry from the slightly older witch. The red-head barely had a chance to greet Severus before he was dragged into his chambers by Lysandra, but the dark wizard didn’t mind being left to his own devices, already prepared with a book.

“You don’t look well, George,” Lysandra observed in her friend’s kitchen. “Have you been eating?”

“Not really. Don’t have much of an appetite since…well, you know.” His eyes glazed over.

“I’m sorry. I know it must be hard working in the shop every day.”

“Yeah. Even worse being here, though.”

Lysandra winced; she hadn’t thought of that. “Damn, I’m sorry. You didn’t have to sub for me, you know.”

George just waved her off. “Don’t worry about me, Lyssa. I’ll manage. That little cat of yours likes to visit me; doesn’t leave me alone until I play with him. Keeps me distracted enough.”

 _So that’s where he gets off to every day…_ “How can I not worry about you? You’re like my little brother. I even argued with Severus to make him let me come up here to see you.”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline. “You’re only a year older than me, for one. I don’t believe the git let you win, though. What’d you do, turn those pretty blue eyes on him full-force?”

She chuckled. “In a way, yes. Apparently, he promised Minerva to keep me close, and he seems to think I can’t go anywhere without him. I can’t say I mind, though; it’s really sweet of him to get so protective.”

“Snape? Sweet? Merlin’s beard, the world is sure to come to an end.”

His grin triggered her own. “I _am_ the man’s only friend, even after he’s been excused for his war crimes because of his spy work.”

“You helped him, you know.”

“Oh, please. He’s been a spy practically as long as I’ve been alive.”

“Fine, disregard all the work you put into your role. He wasn’t the only on being brave.”

“You should have seen him when he was in front of Voldemort or with the other Death Eaters, George. He was brilliant, every single time. That man can weave lies and deception better than anyone I’ve ever met,” Lysandra declared.

“How can you trust him so much, then?”

She debated a moment, trying to find the right words. “It’s hard to explain, because it’s more than just the Vow we took that made me trust him, over time. Alright, don’t tell anyone about this, because he avoids showing this side of himself to anyone but me if he can help it, but whenever we would return from a meeting I had been injured in somehow, he would hold me if I cried or keep within five feet of me if I needed to see Poppy.” She paused, thinking of a few instances with a small smile on her face. “Even if he was hurt, too, he would make sure I was okay before he so much as noticed his own injuries.”

She could almost _see_ the gears working in George’s head as he turned this new information over in his head. “Was he like this at all when everyone thought the Death Eaters were dead, imprisoned or runaways?”

“Yes.”

He broke into another grin, this time looking like a cat that’s just caught a mouse. “You know what this sounds like, don’t you?”

Her head angled to the right. “No, what?”

“Our beloved Professor Severus Snape isn’t in love with the Chosen One’s mum anymore. I think he’s in love with someone else...”

“George Fabian Weasley! Severus is _not_ in love with me.”

“I’ve heard the whispers around here. All the students gossip about you two; you’re always together. Hell, woman, I’ve heard rumors that you’ve made the man smile!”

Lysandra blushed. “I made him laugh once, too.”

“Ha! Snape’s in love!” He gloated, pointing a finger at her.

“Shh!”

“Did he kiss you yet?”

“I beg your pardon?” she squeaked, taken aback.

“Did he kiss you yet?!” he repeated quite a bit louder.

“Hush! He’ll hear you!”

“You know I’ll just ask him if you don’t tell me. Now, could you live with yourself if you let me get myself hexed into oblivion?”

She dropped her face into her hands with a groan. “Yes, we kissed. Three times.”

“I knew it!” 

* * *

 

Severus heard everything they said after Lysandra told George to hush, but couldn’t make out her grumbled reply. With a curious frown, he placed is book on the coffee table—open to the page he was reading—and followed their voices to the kitchen.

“Keeping secrets, are we?”

Lysandra very obviously barely held back a scream and jumped the proverbial ten feet in the air. “For the love of Circe, man, as many times as you’ve saved my life, you’ve nearly killed me just as much!”

“You should pay more attention, Miss Blackwell.”

“Oh, no. What’s got you unhappy, now?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “What were you in here telling him to hush about?”

They both blushed and found sudden interest in the floor. Lysandra mumbled something too low for him to hear.

“What was that, Miss Blackwell?”

“I _said_ …George has made a clever deduction.”

“Pray tell, Mister Weasley, whatever could this ‘deduction’ be?”

“Well…” the pure-blood began, glancing at the woman who was like his sister, continuing at her nod of permission, “Your partner and I were having a discussion that naturally found its way to you, and through a few answers to the questions I asked her, I discovered that the two of you may have snogged a few times.”

Unable to decide if he was angry or not, Severus turned his famous glare on the brunette. “Was anything else disclosed in this conversation, Miss Blackwell?”

“Possibly…”

“You’d do best to tell me, otherwise I’ll be forced to use Legilimency on you.”

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing in a glare. The witch’s eyes were colder than ice, fixing on him in pure fury. “Don’t you dare. You swore you never would. I will curse you back to First Wizarding War if I have to shove you out of my mind!”

“I think I’ll just wait in the sitting room…” George slid out of the kitchen to watch the two felines wrestling in one of his armchairs.

Severus sneered, unconcerned. “I am nearly twice you’re age, girl. I’d like to see you—.”

Before he could finish, she had her wand at his throat. “Try me,” she snarled.

They stood like that for a full two minutes before Severus dared attempt to enter her mind, only to be pushed out with such force it knocked him into the wall.

“ _Levicorpus_.”

Severus found himself held in the air at the ankle by his own spell. His wand clattered out of its pocket inside his robes.

He stared at her, dumbstruck.

Her glower had never left her face. “I’m waiting.”

“My sincere apologies, Miss—”

“I swear, the next time you disrespect me with the title of ‘miss’—”

“My sincere apologies, _Professor_ Blackwell, for insulting you so thoroughly this afternoon.”

She kicked his wand into his reach.

He gratefully muttered, “ _Liberacorpus_ ,” to regain his feet.

“George,” she called, leaving him alone for a moment in the kitchen to find her friend before he followed her. “I think we’re leaving now. I imagine Professor Snape wishes to speak to me alone.”

“Blimey, Snape, you really did it this time, didn’t you?”

“Twenty points from Gryffindor.”

“But I’m not a student anymore, sir.”

“I do not care.”

Lysandra rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you later, George. C’mere, Zayne, Mummy needs to hold you so she doesn’t murder Professor Snape.” She gathered her cat in her arms as Severus picked up Aline with one hand, and George escorted them out. 

* * *

 

Back in his chambers, Lysandra could tell Zayne wanted to jump from her arms because of all her yelling, but he stopped squirming and gave in to his fate after a few minutes.

“You had no right threatening me like that, Severus Snape! Especially after you just waltzed into the room and demanded to know what we were talking about!”

“Excuse me, Professor Blackwell, if I was a bit shocked to find that you were the type to—oh, what’s that American saying?—‘kiss and tell.’”

“That man is my best friend after you, Snape. He is like my brother, and my only other friend! Forgive me if, deep down, I wanted to share something like that with him! His twin brother died at a Death Eater’s hand, and he still defended one! It’s the _least_ I can do to show him any level of trust, which you seem to have none of for _me_!” Realizing she’d let the nagging insecurity she still had slip, she clamped her mouth shut before she could say anything else.

He didn’t notice at that point, too worked up to care even if he did. “Oh, so you’re idea of trust is sharing personal details about someone who might not want them to be shared?”

Well, _that_ didn’t hit a nerve at all. “That’s rich, coming from _you_!”

Severus couldn’t help but notice the change then; that was an extremely low blow. She didn’t lash out so severely unless she was trying to protect herself by breaking the other person down; that “skill” had kept her alive in a number of situations when Severus had to let her be in order to keep their cover. The line in his forehead deepened, if possible, and his eyes narrowed. “Why are you trying to break me? What did I say?”

The iciness never left her glare. “Nothing.”

“Tell me, witch.” He knew better than to try to intimidate her with Legilimency again.

“You still don’t trust me, that’s all.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with her, not right then. “You make it difficult when you go running your mouth about the fact that we ‘snogged a few times.’”

“I was _not_ running my mouth; I was confiding in a friend because it made me happy that it happened. If you’re going to throw a fit like this every time I confide in George, then I daresay I regret we ever did!”

His brain stalled. She was still trying to protect herself, he knew, but was that a serious threat?

“Make a decision now: you either trust me, or you don’t. If not, then I am leaving your chambers and walking right up to George’s without looking back—ever. I _cannot_ take this back-and-forth with you anymore. I _will_ not. Pick. One.”

His shoulders fell; the fight went out of him. He knew he had his moments of mistrust—that day being one of his worse examples—but since the moment he’d learned that _she_ was the one to suggest the Vow, he’d trusted her completely. He may not have been able to show it, out of pure habit and being a guarded man, but he did, and he bitterly regretted not letting her see how quickly he would jump off a bloody cliff if she told him she’d use _Arresto Momentum_ to halt his fall.

He told her as much.

Her reaction was _not_ what he expected.

He thought she’d go off on a rant about how he should have known she didn’t know any of this, let herself fall on the couch staring at nothing, keep yelling how he didn’t trust her, hex him, curse him, or even just crack her hand across his face, but she did none of those.

Later, he would question her sanity at being able to jump from completely furious to…well, he didn’t have a word for it, really, and all coherent thought died, anyway, when she tangled her hand in his hair so she could tug him down to press her lips to his. He pulled her body flush with his, so that her feet left the ground when he straightened himself. He walked her backwards to the leather couch, where he helped her to sit on the back of it. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he skimmed his hands across her back to grasp her hips.

“What exactly are you planning to achieve, Lysandra?” Severus murmured against the soft skin of her throat, shivering when she traced a finger down the back of his neck.

“That depends on what you’re willing to allow,” she ground out. His mouth on her throat coupled with his fingers digging into her hips was giving her hell with forming a coherent sentence.

Severus’ voice had gone husky. “Anything for you.”

She brought his head back up to resume their kiss, which left her vision spinning and her heart racing all over again. “Then why don’t we—”

Three raps on the door. _So close._

The dark man growled against Lysandra’s lips. “If this is going to happen every time we snog, I’ll be stark-raving mad by the month’s end.”

“You’ll not be the only one.”

She let Severus disengage himself from between her legs to answer the door, spinning herself around to slide down onto the cushion and sit properly, fuming over the interruption.

“What do you want, Minerva?”

Lysandra could almost hear the witch cock an eyebrow at him. “I have a message for Lysandra, and I could not send an owl because this place has no windows.”

“Very well; here, I’ll give it to her.” There was a pause, in which Lysandra assumed Minerva was handing over the note. “Thank you; goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Severus.”

He shut the door and joined her on the sofa, tossing the parchment in her lap. Brow furrowed, she opened it right away, wondering what the headmistress could possibly need to tell or ask her.

 

_Lysandra,_

_The fools at the Ministry have yet to find anything_

_regarding the incidents involving Lucius Malfoy and_

_Bellatrix LeStrange. I hope you still have a desire to_

_become an Animagus, because I want you to meet_

_me in my office first thing tomorrow. In the event_

_you have to flee, I believe you should have the_

_option of taking another form without using charms_

_or potions._

_-Minerva_

 

“Well?” Severus asked.

She handed the note over. “No one can know,” she stressed.

He gave her a dry look when he finished reading it. “I gathered that.”


	10. Quick Leaner

The next morning, Lysandra slowly extricated herself from her bed in the guest room Severus had magically created for her, trying not to disturb a still-sleeping Zayne. Thinking she hadn’t slept very well because her neck and back were sore, she dressed in one of her few Muggle outfits for the day, just boot-cut jeans, flats, and an emerald, crew-neck t-shirt underneath grey robes.

She grinned. _I can only imagine what he’ll say when I come home._

Figuring Severus wouldn’t be awake, she went to her desk to write him a note, but when she left her room to place it on the coffee table for him, he was standing at the little island in his kitchen, leaning his elbows on it. He had a cup of what smelled like coffee in one hand while Aline walked back and forth in front of him, rubbing her head and side along his free hand.

“Good morning,” she greeted him, surprise evident in her voice.

Severus glanced at her, the smallest of smiles on his face. “Good morning. How’d you sleep, Lyssa?” He was obviously still tired, and she wondered if he’d put a silencing charm on his room to keep her from hearing him having a nightmare.

“Quite, well, actually. And you?”

He unmistakably avoided her gaze. “Just fine.”

Lysandra narrowed her eyes at him. “You had another nightmare, didn’t you? And you only call me Lyssa when you’re feeling…not like yourself.”

“Are you sure you’re not a natural Legilimens?” He set his coffee down and showed Aline to the floor before pushing himself away from the counter to walk over to her.

She only just realized that he hadn’t gotten dressed yet, and all he’d word to bed was a pair of black pajama pants that hung low on his hips. “You know I’m not. I’m just a pro at reading you by now.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead when he reached her, stunning her with the casual gesture. “Yes, I had a nightmare, but lately, they’ve just been memories drudged up by my sadist of a subconscious.”

Her arms found their way around his waist as his pulled her against him. “How did I not know you’ve been having them? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m usually up and out the door an hour before you, and silencing charms are easy to put up. I didn’t want to worry you. To be honest, I hate it whenever I see it in your eyes. You should never have to worry for anything.”

Lysandra leaned her head back to rest her chin on his chest and stare up at him. “Severus Snape, you _really_ need to learn to stop hiding things from me. What was it about?”

It took everything she had not to let her eyes bug out of her head when the man bit his lip. “You. At meetings. Usually being tortured, sometimes in the duels you lost in the beginning. I always wake up thinking you’re still there.”

She smiled fondly, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek. His eyes drifted closed and he turned into her touch. _He is so vulnerable after those damn nightmares._ “I’m right here; you know I’ll never leave. Come wake me if I don’t hear you screaming. Please?”

“Alright. Now go to Minerva; she sent an owl a few minutes ago that you should be in her office by ten, but I could already tell you were waking.”

“Lord, I completely forgot! See what you do?”

He mustered up a smirk. “You know I’ve always thoroughly enjoyed distracting you…especially now. Go. I’ll wait up for you if you’re home late.”

“Do me a favor and go talk to George if you’re feeling lonely. He’d be happy to cheer you up, if you’d let him.” She stretched up to place a kiss on his cheek before leaving the circle of his arms and heading for the door.

“I will. Oh, Lysandra, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

He smirked. “You look like a Slytherin again.”

“I knew you’d say that.” Glad to hear him chuckling as she closed the door behind her, she half-hoped he would go talk to George anyway. 

* * *

Lysandra whispered the password and let the stairs carry her up to Minerva’s office. Without a moment’s delay, the older witch was firing questions at her.

“I assume you’ve done some extensive research on the subject?”

“Yes; Hermione Granger was all too happy to help since she was able to take notes and such, although I’m still shocked at her quick acceptance of me.”

“Good. When was the last time you summoned your patronus? That’s generally the Animagus form you will take.”

“When I in the hospital wing after Bellatrix posed as Severus.”

“Summon it now, please?”

“Why? I doubt it’s changed at all.”

“Just to be safe, dear.”

Lysandra sighed in defeat, conceding to Minerva’s point. She drew her wand. “ _Expecto Patronum_.” The ribbon of light swirled around them both before settling, eye-level to its conjurer, into a cobra with its hood flared. Lysandra jumped. “For the love or Circe! What in sodding hell happened to my mare?!” The serpent which had taken its place glided around her, sliding along her arms and through her hair. It appeared to be trying to calm her.

“The same thing that happened to Severus’ original patronus.”

“But…I’m not…I mean, I love Severus, but I’m not _in_ love with him…”

“Worry about that later, dear.” Lysandra frowned; why did the headmistress seem so stressed? “Focus on your patronus; you’re stuck with a cobra no matter what you do, short of hating Severus. See it in your mind, picture yourself turning into it.

She obeyed, closing her eyes. She pictured herself as she was now, melting into the form of a king cobra. After about five minutes, a chill came over her and Minerva gasped. Lysandra’s eyes flew open to find the source of her old professor’s alarm. “What’s wrong?”

Minerva transfigured an armchair into a full-length mirror and pulled Lysandra’s robes from her shoulders. The young woman inhaled sharply.

Scales covered her from head to toe. They were mostly black, with light, barely-there, yellow-tan stripes every few inches, and her throat and chest were just a shade more yellow. The blue topaz color of her eyes was nowhere to be found; they’d turned so dark brown they were nearly black, with an amber sunburst around the pupils.

“Great Merlin…” Lysandra breathed.

“Great Merlin is right! You shouldn’t have been able to change your eyes yet, let alone your skin! I daresay you could find it in yourself to take two forms if you so desired.”

“One deadly snake is enough; I’m almost afraid of what a second form would be.”

“That’s a debate for another time. For now, focus on turning into the cobra.”

Lysandra folded her legs underneath her as she sank to the floor and Minerva reversed the spell on the armchair. She shut her eyes again and thought only of her body melting into the form of her patronus again. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but her top canines sharpened into fangs; a while later she tasted something bitter and fiery, and realized with a start that it was venom dripping from her new dagger-sharp teeth just before they extended, now long enough to press on her bottom lip.

Her breath hitched, afraid she’d taste blood, and her concentration faltered, resulting in the loss of the fangs, which she wasn’t entirely ungrateful for. But now she’d just have a harder time getting them back because they’d startled her so.

Minerva watched her former student carefully over the hours. The younger witch had removed her shoes not long ago for comfort, so Minerva was able to see her toes begin to fuse together, and then her fingers, and then her legs, although all she could see were her ankles. When her hair turned black with those pale yellow stripes and moved of its own accord to begin shaping itself into the flared hood of a king cobra, Minerva had to interrupt.

“My dear, open your eyes. I believe you’ve practiced enough for today. Even the sun is resting now.” She transfigured the armchair into a mirror again for the girl to see herself.

“Wow…”

“Yes, you’re quite the sight at the moment; even Voldemort would have jumped if he could see you. You have the makings to be a very powerful witch, Lysandra. Severus may have started the wizarding world calling Hermione the Gryffindor Princess, but you may garner the title of Slytherin Princess. I implore you to be careful with whom you place your trust from now on,” Minerva warned.

Lysandra nodded, still dazed by her own reflection. “Thank you, Headmistress, and I will.”

“Good. Those horrid Death Eaters will do anything to get to you, and I fear Severus will keel over with worry if you do not have a way to escape them should he not be able to protect you.”

“If I’m to be such a great witch, why should I need his protection?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Because he is already a great wizard,” Minerva stressed.

“You have me there. Anyway…how am I to change back? I fear I may give people quite a scare walking around this way.”

“Transformation is the same both ways. Just picture yourself as you are now changing into your fully human form.”

This took Lysandra another hour, and by that time it had gotten very late. Both witches knew her housemate would be worrying something had gone wrong, so they said some hasty goodbyes and Lysandra slipped back into her shoes and robes and rushed down to the dungeons.

But it was clear Severus wasn’t around as soon as she entered their quarters.

 _Wait, when did they become_ ours _?_

She shook the thought, making a mental note to dwell on it later, when she found a note on the kitchen island. She nearly fell over when she read that he’d gone to see George after all, and had to study the small piece of parchment to make sure it was, indeed, his handwriting and that there were no spells placed on it.

Lysandra marched up to George’s chambers, wishing desperately for sleep, for she was exhausted after using so much energy as steadily as she had for the past fourteen hours. The scene she found when George let her in, however, nearly saw her fainting with shock. She had to lean on him to keep herself upright.

“I must be hallucinating. Is that Severus Snape asleep on your couch?”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. He came up after dinner. I went into the kitchen at some point to make us some tea, and when I came back he that’s how he was. Hasn’t moved since, and neither has Aline.” The red-headed man cautiously let her go, letting his hands hover next to her for a moment until he was sure she would stay standing.

“I suppose I should wake him up. He’ll be contrite with himself for falling asleep on your sofa.” She sat on the edge of the couch gently before shaking his shoulder a bit, but he didn’t stir. “Hm. Stubborn git.” She shooed George from the room with a wave of her hand, leaning farther over Severus. Once she was sure George was in another room, she kissed Severus soundly on the lips.

He finally woke, pulling her down to him with a growl. “What a pleasant way to wake up,” he purred.

“Behave. You fell asleep on George’s couch. Let’s go home. You can ravish me there.”

“Are you a Legilimens now?”

She snorted. “Hardly. You made your intentions apparent when you bloody _purred_ your greeting.”

“I’ve made stranger sounds because of you.”

“Oh, hush! I told you behave. George! We’re leaving!” Lysandra pulled her stubborn companion to his feet.

George sauntered in with a full grin on his face. “Nice wake up call, eh, Snape?”

Severus rolled his eyes, unsurprised the other man had been spying. “Yes, Weasley. I will not bother to lie to you now. We’ve been over the…situation in length, have we not?”

“We have.” The smile fell from her friend’s face, replaced by a scowl. “Do me a favor—don’t hurt her, and don’t let anyone else hurt her, either. She’s my sister.” His voice was pleading, begging the dark wizard to do as he asked.

Severus clapped George on the shoulder as they shook hands in farewell. “I promise I will. Should I fail, please take it upon yourself to seek revenge, for I would have little desire to live.”

George smirked. “I will, whether you’d just given me permission or not.”

“As you should. On a lighter note, I have no doubt she will drag me up here once more next Saturday.”

They finished their goodbyes, and Lysandra was barely able to mutter hers past her bewilderment at the short conversation that had just taken place. She linked her arm with his as they walked, but it wasn’t until they descended the stairs into the dungeons that she found her voice.

“Did you—were you talking to George about us?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I was.” He watched his feet. “I got rather lonely waiting for you. Zayne and Aline can only entertain a man for so long.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Everything but the part about your…lessons. I thought I would let you decide whether or not to tell him.”

“Sodding hypocrite,” she muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

Lysandra couldn’t help but laugh. “You gave me a sound tongue-lashing for talking to George, and then you went on and did it today!”

“I realized the error of my ways. You’ve changed my character, Lysandra. Even my students have noticed.” He removed his wards so they could enter his rooms, rewarding the door once they were inside. “And now, I believe, you mentioned that I could ravish you?”

“Yes, please.”

“I swear I’ll be sentenced to life in Azkaban for what I do if we’re interrupted again,” he declared as he bent slightly to give her a kiss that set her skin on fire.

“Then let’s head into your room while we have a chance, shall we?”

Severus locked and warded his bedroom door for silence and protection the second it was closed behind them. He then literally tossed Lysandra onto his bed, earning a shriek of surprise from her. She moaned hungrily when he joined her, taking her mouth again and pressing their bodies together as their legs tangled with one another.

Around three in the morning, they lay on their sides under his blankets. He pulled her to him, her back against his chest, and nuzzled his face into her hair.

“Mm, you still smell like jasmine after all that. Lovely.”

She chuckled. “So glad you approve, Professor.” She wiggled closer under the sheets.

He traced patterns on her bare hip until she felt herself beginning to drift into sleep. She turned over to face him and bury her face in his chest, and just before she dropped off, she thought she heard him whisper, “I love you. I believe I have for a while, I just never saw it.”

“I love you, too…”

Severus stiffened, apparently unaware she was still awake, but let himself relax after a moment and kissed her forehead, sending her to sleep. 

* * *

 

Lysandra woke alone the next morning, finding that Severus had left for his classes. Not feeling like going to her own bedroom to fetch clothes, she found one of his white shirts and buttoned it on over her naked body, rolling the sleeves halfway up her forearms. She found that he’d left her breakfast, charmed to stay warm for her, when she went into the kitchen for food. The small gesture made her smile, and then the previous night’s pillow talk came back to her.

He’d said he loved her.

She’d said it back.

And she knew she’d meant it.

“Merlin’s beard…” _What does this make us? Are we together now, or what?_

A house elf popped into the sitting room, scaring her enough that she needed to grip the counter to avoid falling off the barstool she was perched on. He told her that Headmistress McGonagall was expecting her in her office for more practice, so Lysandra hurried to get dressed and was about to leave the chambers when the elf spoke again, apparently having never left.

“The mistress said you could use the floo, Miss.”

“Oh. Thank you.” She crossed the sitting room to the fireplace, took a handful of floo powder, and said, “Headmistress McGonagall’s office,” before tossing it at her feet.

“Good, you’re awake now. The Ministry finally found a lead on Bellatrix and the Death Eaters; they’re after you and Severus, that much you know, but they also found evidence suggesting they’re planning to kidnap you.”

“What? Why?”

“They’re not sure yet, but you need to master your animagus form within the week to be safe. Get going. I have a class I need to go to now. I don’t care if you stay here or return to Severus’ chambers, just practice.” Minerva left an astonished Lysandra in her office, who flooed back into Severus’ sitting room. She locked herself in her bedroom, not even coming out to eat. It took her no time at all to complete the partial transformation she achieved the day before, but the sensation of her own fangs touching her lip was still difficult to swallow. By dinnertime, her legs and feet had fused together enough to make her think of a deformed mermaid; the rest of her body was changing faster and faster by the minute.

Severus was worried, to say the least, when Minerva told him the news after dinner, so he rushed home and yelled through her door for her to come out, swearing up and down that if she didn’t, he’d just go in and get her anyway, so she might as well let the sodding wards down.

He was _not_ anticipating finding an eighteen-foot king cobra coiled on her bed when he followed through with his threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's supposed to take MUCH longer for a witch or wizard to become an Animagus, but I needed to speed up the process for the sake of the plot.


	11. Apportioner of Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apportion: to divide and allocate; assign

Lachesis paced the dais at the back of the cave she’d taken up residence in. It was lit by sconces placed every few feet along the walls, charmed to never die, but the damp, gray walls still looked depressing. Water droplets fell from the ceiling, making little splashing noises as they hit the floor. There was nothing in the cavern but a large wooden throne on the natural dais, its back taller than Lachesis even when she was standing.

It was perfect.

Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix LeStrange entered from a small passage that wound its way to light from the enormous cavity in the mountain, looking smug and proud of themselves. The Death Eaters lining the walls, watching as their new leader paced, paid little attention to them for fear that Lachesis would go mental and start spouting the Killing Curse at anyone caught in her gaze.

“You two!” she shrieked, coming to a halt in almost the exact center of the stage nature created. “You’re late!”

Lucius bowed, urging Bella to follow his lead. She didn’t know how to grovel; the Dark Lord had never given her reason to. “We apologize profusely, great lady. We were delayed by Aurors; they came too close.”

“Incompetent _fools_!” she shouted. Her voice echoed off the cave walls, shrill enough to make everyone but her flinch. “I _told_ you to make sure no one _saw_ you!”

“We know; we have failed you, Fate, and we will do anything to make it up to you.”

The maniacal woman began her pacing again, but it was more predatory this time. She resembled a great white cat, with her white hair flowing straight down to her hips, her pale skin, colorless irises, and her tendency to always wear white. Lucius thought she belonged to Light when he first saw her.

He’d never been more wrong.

Lachesis Khaye’s insanity rivaled that of even Voldemort’s, and her arrogance left the dead wizard’s in the dust. She’d told them all, one evening, that she’d chosen her first name after the Fate that decided how long each person had to live; its literal meaning was “apportioner.” Her last name was from the given name Khaye, which meant “life.” She named herself the apportioner of life. To herself, she was the Goddess of Death. To everyone else, she was a haughty rich woman who’d lost all mental stability the moment she was born.

Before Lucius, and the rest of the Death Eaters, had learned exactly what they’d gotten themselves into, they’d thought of her as a second Voldemort. About a month later, she showed how truly insane she was by forcing the two youngest members to fight to the death, and Lucius had thanked the fate she’d stolen her name from that his wife and son had abandoned the Death Eaters at the end of the war.

He wished he had done the same.

“Oh, you’ll make it up to me, all right. We’ve let that little whore—what’s her name?”

“Professor Lysandra Blackwell, Fate,” Bellatrix said.

“Right. We’ve let her get off easy so far. And nobody’s even touched that _snake_ of a ‘man’ other than to restrain him. You’re going after him next. _Dolohov_!”

He left his post next to the wall to occupy Lucius’ other side. “Yes, great lady?” Lachesis seemed to be the only one oblivious to the unsteadiness to his voice.

“You’re doing the hit on Snape.”

“You want me to kill him, Fate?” The man’s voice rose a few octaves. Who was idiot enough to start a fight with Severus Snape?

“No, you buffoon! Injure him. Make that little tramp of his watch. It’ll hurt him even worse if he knows she’s watching him be tortured. Did you find a way to make that curse?”

“Yes, and the counter-curse.”

She smiled slowly, showing off her unusually sharp canines. None of the Death Eaters had ever seen proof, but they all believed her to be an Animagus. “Show me on…Lucius.”

The blond man swallowed nervously. He’d only heard about the curse Dolohov had been ordered to create a few months ago, but nothing detailed had found its way to him.

Antonin aimed his wand at Lucius as his eyes silently begged forgiveness for what he was about to do, and Lucius tried to communicate that it was okay, that he understood Antonin was only doing this to keep Lachesis from killing them both. “ _Cruciatus Aeternum_.” The pain of the Cruciatus Curse ripped into his body, but it was as if claws were cutting into him and the pain was spreading from there, rather than the sensation of needles stabbing every inch of him all at once. His legs gave out and he crashed to the floor, nearly taking Bella with him.

Lachesis clapped and bloody _giggled_ in sadistic glee, letting Lucius suffer for a few moments before telling Dolohov to heal him.

He knelt next to his friend, again drawing his wand. “ _Sana Dolor_.” The pain began to return to its points of origin. “ _Sana Dolor_.” It disappeared altogether, save where it had slashed into his gut. “ _Sana Dolor_.” The invisible wounds shrunk to nothing. Antonin rose to his feet.

Lucius gasped for air as his muscles relaxed and he went limp, staring up at the ceiling.

“Tell me about these spells, Dolohov.”

He’d rehearsed this part so he didn’t stumble over his words whenever she got around to asking. “The curse inflicts the pain of the Cruciatus Curse, evident in part of its name, but it enters the victim as if he or she were being cut into by an animal’s claws, spreads throughout the body, and does not let up until the counter-curse is used. The counter-curse is actually much like Snape’s healing spell to his _Sectumsempra_ curse in that it has to be spoken three times before the victim is completely freed of the pain,” he said in a rush, not daring to take a break to breathe. “Oh! I nearly forgot: I’m sure you noticed this, but I feel I should also add that the caster does not need to keep his or her wand aimed at the victim for the curse to hold.”

“I like it! Use it on Snape’s whore after you torture him. She’ll go mad with agony, and they’ll have to kill her or something. I assume you’ve made it so only _your_ counter-curse can cure it?”

“Of course.”

“Good! He should be easy enough to take out once they do whatever they do with her.”

“Fate, if I may be so bold, I have a question…”

“ _What_ , Bellatrix!”

Bella’s eyes widened in utter fear, but she still asked, “What…why do you hate Severus?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you why…”

 

_Reina Blythe had a happy life once, long ago, toward the end of First Wizarding War. She shared her life with her husband and two sons in a cozy little farmhouse, away from the war and all its tragedies. Fate never dealt them a bad hand; their crops always came in perfectly, they raised impeccable livestock, and the children ever gave their parents any trouble._

_That all changed the day a black-haired wizard came to their door to recruit her husband to the Death Eaters._

_Everything fell apart. The crops refused to grow, their animals became sickly and eventually all died off, and the boys began acting out at every turn. Reina couldn’t figure out why Fate had taken such undeserved vengeance on her; she blamed the dark-haired wizard, who she later found out to be Severus Snape._

_One day, Snape came calling without sending word beforehand. The look in his eyes told them all that nothing good would come of his visit, and before anyone had been able to utter a single word past a greeting, he used the Killing Curse on her sons. He’d cast it on her, but her husband blocked it from hitting her, preventing Snape from finishing the small family off._

_He left her weeping on the floor of the farmhouse kitchen, but she’d never seen the remorse in his eyes for hurting her. She was never told that he had been forced to murder her and the children because her husband had betrayed the Dark Lord._

_She swore then that she would unravel his life as he had so carelessly destroyed hers._

Lachesis left out the part about rapidly losing her sanity over the years, plotting and searching for allies. When the Second Wizarding War began, she’d laid in wait for someone to finish the Dark Lord so she could step in to take his place. She hadn’t expected Snape to turn out to be a spy, but it did little to change her plans, mostly because they hadn’t been formed beyond making him suffer in the worst possible way before murdering him.

She wondered briefly if he would marry the tramp. Then she could use their child or children against him.

Sod it. Her patience would not stretch that long, and she’d already come too far to back down and wait some more. It had already been seventeen years; it was time for Snape to reap the consequences of his actions.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have a marvelous idea to entertain us until we can make our move on the girl…” 

* * *

 

Severus fell back against the door, gripping the frame hard enough to turn his knuckles white. His breathing was ragged, his heart was racing, and he couldn’t take his eyes from the cobra raising itself up to strike. _I’m going to die._

Then he saw the faint, almost invisible white lines crisscrossing its hood by a stroke of pure luck. Gathering his wits about him, he drew his wand and murmured, “ _Legilimens_.”

— _dy hell! He probably thinks I’m going to eat him. Oh, but his face when he saw me…_

“Lysandra?!” he exclaimed, snapping out of her mind

She hissed and flicked her tongue out. She might have blinked, too.

“It’ll take you hours to change back on your own, won’t it?”

She nodded once.

Sighing, Severus stood on wobbly legs, doing his best to center himself as Lysandra saw how much she’d scared him. With a deep breath, he muttered the Animagus reversal spell and watched as she melted back into her human form.

She launched into his arms. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think I’d still be a snake when you got home.”

Severus hugged her tight enough that he might leave her bruised, but she didn’t dare complain. “Why is your Animagus a bloody king cobra?” he whispered into her neck.

“Because that’s what my patronus is.”

“Why?”

She pulled back to meet his eyes. “Because I love you! I know I told you as much last night.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “For your patronus to have changed, you would have to be so in love with me that your soul is altered. That kind of love takes years to form, Lysandra. Why did you not tell me sooner?”

“Well, for one, the last time I saw your patronus, it was a doe. No woman in her right mind would profess love to a man who still loved someone else. But…I didn’t really _know_ I loved you until last night.” She paused, biting her lip. “Ugh, that sounds like such a cliché, but it’s true.”

“Don’t let it make you feel cheap; I didn’t know until then, either. But, Lyssa, you know I would never ridicule you for telling me something serious like that, don’t you?”

“Yes, but you weren’t always that way, you know.”

He slid his hands down her body to rest on her hips and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry about that.”

She waved him off. “Could you…I mean, not to be awkward, but…do you think you could maybe…”

He arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

“…conjure your patronus…?”

Severus let her go with a peck on her cheek and took two steps away from her to draw his wand.

The rushing sound of someone coming through the floo in his living room chased the spell from his lips. He warily opened Lysandra’s door, wand at the ready, with his free hand wrapped around hers in a vise-like grip; he saw her wand drawn from the corner of his eye.

Professor Flitwick was standing in Severus’ sitting room. The couple breathed sighs of relief, letting the tension leave their bodies.

“What are you doing here, Filius?” Lysandra questioned in surprise.

“Everyone who knows the patronus charm is being summoned to the Great Hall. I was told to retrieve you.”

“What are we being summoned for?” Severus inquired.

“I haven’t a clue, but we must hurry!”

“Of course. We should just floo to the nearest room.”

They did just that and rushed down the corridor the Great Hall. Every member of the staff was present, as was every seventh year and many of the sixth years. Minerva stood in front of the Head Table. Severus assumed they were the last three to arrive, because she started speaking just as they entered the room.

“I will be forward with you all, both because I know you are capable of handling the truth, and because we haven’t much time to spare.” The headmistress appeared to take a calming breath before going on. “It seems that the dementors have not only abandoned Azkaban, but the Ministry now, as well. I have received news that they are descending on the school as we speak. Why, I do not know, but I want all of you to surround the school as best you can. No questions now, just work together to send those hideous creatures away. Go!”

Everyone snapped into action, some apparating to the more distant edges of the grounds straight off. Severus and Lysandra joined Minerva at the bridge leading to the viaduct courtyard and Entrance Hall of the school, all straining their eyes to search for movement in the blackness.

The dementors were clever in their attack this time; they didn’t all come at once, instead only one or two at a time. Severus didn’t even need to do anything at first. The Dark creatures were testing the waters, looking for the weak links; it was very unlike them, so they must have been ordered to use some sort of strategy, but who would they obey other than the Ministry? At last, though, they made their final attack, and Severus decided they weren’t so clever after all when they came straight for him.

“ _Expecto Patronum_!” He panicked for a split second when the ribbons of light were indistinct, letting out the breath he was holding when it finally took form to give off waves of the charm, sending this group of dementors floating away.

He realized with a start that a very offended-looking mare was stamping her hoof to send off each wave instead of the doe he’d expected to see.

Everybody watching him noticed it, too.

_I am never going to live this down._

The night was far from over, however. The dementors did not give up until it was clear that the witches and wizards would defend the school until they dropped dead, and they were not creatures of patience, so they abandoned the school in search of Muggles to torment before they returned to their new master…or mistress.

Light was peaking over the horizon when the small army headed back into the school. Minerva announced that all classes were cancelled for the day, but that she would explain everything at dinner that evening. She cautioned everyone involved not to tell the other students; that would undoubtedly spark hysteria among them, so it was best they be informed of it that evening.

Severus and Lysandra collapsed on the couch the moment they reached it; he fell onto it back-first and let her topple onto his chest. Zayne and Aline jumped up to settle on Lysandra’s back, seeming to fall asleep there instantly.

“Well. That was fun,” Severus said, lazily running one hand through her hair.

“Rubbish. My entire body aches.”

He chuckled. “I could remedy that, but so does mine.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“We should probably talk about this later, but since I saw your patronus, I’m dying to know: are we…together…?” He felt her cheeks warm against his neck.

“Well…seeing as we both apparently love each other to a degree that our souls have changed…” he said slowly, “…it would make sense that we become…involved. And there is that tiny little detail of shagging last night, but that’s not a big deal, right?”

A smile lit up her face and she ignored his light teasing. “So I can officially call you mine, now?”

“Witch, you have been able to call me yours for four years.”

“I suppose.” She laughed quietly and lifted her head to nip at his lower lip and then trail kiss from his mouth to his throat and back again.

He hummed in approval. “You’re lucky I’m as knackered as I am.”

“Why’s that, love?”

A shiver went through him. “Because if I wasn’t, you’d be naked in my bed by now.”

“I hardly think that’s a bad thing.” She knotted her hands in his hair, still kissing and nipping at his neck.

“You wouldn’t be saying that tomorrow morning; instead, you’d be ready to hex me for making you so sore.”

“I wasn’t sore today.”

“I gave you a potion for it straight after, remember?”

“I forgot, actually.”

“Exactly. You’re driving me wild, by the way.”

She snorted a laugh and told him she’d known that for a while. She gently removed his hand from her hair to lightly bite at his wrist just to see what kind of reaction she’d get, extremely pleased when he shivered again.

“Liked that, did you?”

“Clearly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Cruciatus Aeternum: eternal torment/torture  
> • Sana Dolor: heal the pain


	12. The Prince

The odd couple was greeted by an immediate increase in conversation the second they entered the Great Hall for dinner. Severus stopped walking, clenched his fists, and closed his eyes, breathing deep. Gossip increased even more, if possible, at the sight of Professor Snape hesitating.

When Lysandra noticed her companion was no longer beside her, she turned to see him framed by the open doorway and returned to his side, linking her arm with his. “Severus,” she said for his ears only, “you can face them. It’ll be alright, I promise.”

His eyes flashed to hers. She could see the internal battle he was waging.

She smiled reassuringly, cupping her free hand around his neck—and his scar. “I promise,” she repeated.

He shuddered once, eyes closing briefly once more, and took a deep breath before finally resuming his path to the Head Table with her on his arm. Whispers of his new patronus were already circulating, and no one was being shy about it now after his little display at the door.

Lysandra surprised him by leaving his side to speak to the headmistress, and then by moving to the podium.

“Students of Hogwarts!” she cried. Everyone’s attention was riveted to her in an instant. “I assume, by now, you’ve all heard that Professor Snape’s patronus has changed.” Sounds of assent were heard throughout the student body, but a few of them looked confused, so Lysandra gestured for Severus to come to her side.

He knew what she wanted. Without needing to be told, he cast his patronus. The mare galloped around the Great Hall, playful despite who summoned her, visiting many of the students. The Gryffindors laughed and reached out for her, while the Slytherins growled and sneered; in response, the mare snorted at them, shaking her mane and stamping her hoof, but now she was angry, not determined to protect.

Severus had to smirk; Lysandra did her best to hide her grin of approval.

“And just to clear up any speculations—” she called when she had herself under control. She cast a patronus of her own; the cobra headed straight for Severus’ mare, but rather than attacking her as everyone in the room thought he would, he wrapped around her in what could only be described as an embrace. However, it didn’t last long—the mare was as impatient as Severus and quickly shook the other patronus off to make him chase her. “This is all the explanation you’re getting, kids, so watch while you can.”

Calling their patronuses back to them, Severus and Lysandra took their seats and relinquished the floor to Minerva. She explained to the room that dementors had attacked last night, addressing that she knew everyone had questions, but could only tell them that the creatures had chosen a new master. “Rest assured that they were easily dispatched due to the early warning the school’s wards gave us. We have plenty of staff and students able to fend them off on short notice; they will not be a problem.”

Those previously in the dark breathed a sigh of relief.

“However…”

Groans filled the room.

“If you should venture outside the school, no matter how close you are to its walls, make sure to have at least one person in your party who knows the patronus charm. Now, please, resume your meal as well as you’re able.”

Lysandra kept herself out of conversation, choosing to keep an eye on the students instead. She caught part of a conversation from her own House, surprised at the viciousness in a comment about Severus; she silently conjured her cobra and sent it to the third-year who’d spoken to deduct fifty points—more to set an example of the girl than anything. Shortly after the snake left her, various noises of annoyance and anger found her ears. When the girl looked up at her with a glare, Lysandra simply raised her eyebrows in a stern look that said, “You want to see what happens when you push your luck? You being in my House is obviously irrelevant.” 

* * *

 

Severus finally cleared her for class, as the tremors had grown easier to bear, if not farther apart. George returned to his business, and she promised she’d visit him that weekend if Severus was feeling up to it. Her first class back was with seventh years, so they were more mature about her and Severus basically proclaiming undying love for each other at dinner the night before, but she was taking points from the few Slytherins left and right. Most of them angered her to the point that she confiscated their wands and made them sit back and watch while the rest of the class practiced spells on the dummies.

In the dungeons, the former Death Eater was having the same problem with his Gryffindors. _He_ knew they were just protective of their Head of House, despite how they thought of her before, but _they_ knew that he’d risked life and limb for each and every one of them for twenty years to keep them safe—and had almost died in the process. House points were taken without warning or reservation; he gave quite a few students zeroes for the day but made them continue to brew their potions anyway. His patience was wearing thin.

Walking through the corridors on her way to lunch, Lysandra docked more points than necessary from anyone still tossing out insults. She knew she ought to give the students more leniency—the information hadn’t been out in the open for even a day; people were bound to gossip, and it was her fault they even knew—but if there was one thing that grated on her more than anything else, it was students gossiping about someone she cared for. She couldn’t stand people being made fun of.

Severus was having much the same problem, yet again. He was determined to keep her safe. Whether that be from rogue Death Eaters or words, he didn’t care, so long as she wasn’t hurt. Her voice in his head told him she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, making him smirk just as she came around the corner, positively fuming. Her expression softened when she saw him.

“Hey,” she said, sounding knackered, “I was wondering when I’d get to see you. Has your day been as bad as mine so far?”

“May I?” He motioned to her head.

She nodded.

Marveling at her trust in him, he sifted through her memories of the first half of the day. “Nearly. Let’s just say I reacted much differently than you.”

“Oh, Lord. What did you do?”

“Nothing, really, just made my students keep working for a zero where you kept them from participating. They like your class; mine, not so much.”

She rolled her eyes, taking his hand to lead him into the Great Hall. “I wonder why,” she remarked dryly. 

* * *

 

The fourth years were testing in her last class of the day, so Lysandra was strolling up and down the aisles of desks, arms crossed, making sure no one cheated. She let half of her brain think on the recent events at the school, when something suddenly clicked. She waited eagerly for her students to finish their exams and dismissed them the moment they were, rushing out of the room with the stack of parchment so she could grade them that night if she had time.

Severus was still in his classroom when she reached it, but his students were gone as well. _Perfect_. “Severus!”

“Merlin, woman,” he exclaimed with a start. “How do you do that?”

“Not now, Severus. Do you still talk to Lucius Malfoy?”

The dark man frowned. Where was she going with this? “Occasionally. I _am_ still his son’s godfather, after all. Why?”

Lysandra beamed. “He’s still a Death Eater.” She watched in amusement as the realization took him over, as well.

“He’s still a Death Eater!” he echoed, leaving his desk to join her at the door. “How did I miss this? You are brilliant!”

“Yes, yes, I am; whatever! Let’s tell Minerva!”

The headmistress reacted much the same as her Potions professor, followed by an order for Severus to talk with the man as soon as he could. Severus owled his old friend right then, and they got lucky the next day: Lucius had just returned to town and would be available to meet them in Hogsmeade that Saturday. They arranged to talk in the Hog’s Head since it was generally less populated, darker, and had few windows for people to see Lucius through.

When Severus and Lysandra arrived at the pub that Saturday, they were glad to see that Lucius hadn’t backed out. Severus began the interrogation right away.

“Who are the dementors obeying now?”

Lucius was all too eager to give his friend the information; he owed Severus many times for helping his son and covering for him a few times with Voldemort. “A woman who calls herself the Goddess of Death or something ridiculous like that. Lachesis Khaye; I believe she stole her first name from one of the Fates. Arrogant chit, if you ask me. Severus, you wouldn’t think it’s possible, but this woman is worse than the Dark Lord.”

“Why, what’s she done?”

“Well, for one thing, mental stability is not her forte. The dementors came to her to offer their service; she didn’t petition them for it,” he said in a harsh whisper.

Lysandra gaped. “This is clearly very bad. Where is she?”

“In some cave she managed to find out in the middle of Ireland. I didn’t even know there were mountains in Ireland, let alone a damn _cave_ ,” he grumbled.

“Lucius!” Severus snapped. “Focus! What’s she planning?”

“I really shouldn’t be telling you any of this. She’ll bloody murder me.”

“We can offer you asylum in Hogwarts if you tell us. And we can bring in Draco and Narcissa, too,” Lysandra offered as a bribe, secretly wondering if Draco would even come in.

“Fine, but I have to stay with them for a while longer. She’s planning two attacks. One on you two, and she just started plotting for another on the school itself.”

“What did _we_ do?” Lysandra asked, aghast.

Lucius told her as much of the story of Reina Blythe as she’d told her Death Eaters. Severus dropped his head in one hand the instant he heard the name, groaning. He’d always wished he could go back and put her out of her misery, but her husband just _had_ to jump in front of her. Now, even to protect another, he’d never be able to deal her a killing blow.

Severus pulled Lysandra against him in the booth, not bothering to be gentle about it.

His lover growled when Lucius finished speaking. She locked her eyes on Severus’, giving him a silent signal to enter her mind in order to show him an image of her in her cobra form, striking more than once at the white woman Lucius described. She kissed his cheek when he smiled for her.

“Lucius,” she said, resting her head on Severus’ shoulder, “how will she attack the school?”

The blonde man studied them with narrowed eyes before answering, “Just with the remaining Death Eaters and dementors. The other allies of the Dark Lord are either dead, imprisoned, fled the country, or are in hiding, so we’re all she’s got.”

“Thank Merlin for that,” Severus muttered.

“Not necessarily, old friend. The dementors that were here are not all of the creatures she has at her disposal, and despite what the papers said, most of us that lived avoided Azkaban.”

“How many?”

“Too many to count.”

“For the lo—!”

“Severus,” Lysandra chided softly; she didn’t want to draw attention to them. He’d been rather loud.

“Are you willing to be a spy, Lucius?”

He scoffed. “Against that madwoman? Hell, no. I’m already risking death telling you all I did.”

“It would only be until you find out the rest of her plan! Then you can come stay at the school with your wife and son,” Lysandra persuaded.

“And I can teach you Occlumency if you need it.”

“No, she’s no Legilimens…Fine, but _I_ will contact _you_ when I have something. None of this rubbish that went on between you and Dumbledore. I can’t afford to go back and forth like that.”

Lysandra held back a whoop of joy. “Thank you, Lucius.”

Severus just frowned, apparently having fallen deep in thought. The other two watched him intently, awaiting whatever profound thing he was bound to say. “The students need to be prepared. Only the seventh years will have a consistent knowledge of the spells that will best serve them during Khaye’s attack. The sixth years that fought last year were only those in Dumbledore’s Army.”

“I can take care of that,” Lysandra assured.

The trio split after talking a while about other things, letting themselves pretend that war memories weren’t coming back full-force at the prospect of another battle, not voicing the thoughts whirring around in their brains. Lucius feared for his family and his friend, and his friend’s lover, he supposed. Severus was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to give Lysandra the protection he owed her, not to mention feeling guilty for the problem itself—or herself. Lysandra was going into mother-bear-mode over the students.

When Severus and Lysandra returned to the school a few hours later, they went straight up to Minerva’s office to relay their findings. Lysandra proposed a reinstatement of both Dumbledore’s Army and the Order of the Phoenix, to which Minerva was more than happy to oblige. She promised to arrange an Order meeting as soon as she could find contacts for the members that were still alive. Lysandra sent a house-elf to tell Ginny Weasley to assemble the DA members still attending Hogwarts as soon as possible, and, obviously, to let Lysandra know when the meeting would be.

Luckily, the youngest Weasley moved quickly and had them all in the Room of Requirement by noon the next day, along with a surprising number of younger students. Lysandra informed Severus that she would not lead the army, only help train them, and told him to meet her there in about five minutes so she could speak to them with as little tension in the room as possible.

Once she had everyone’s attention, she announced, “Dumbledore’s Army is needed once again, everyone. You all know that many of the Death Eaters remain free, yes?” Varying sounds of agreement met her question. “Well, I’ll be blunt: they’re going to attack the school. Our source has not been able to give us a date, but we need to be prepared, and we need the younger students to be prepared—their new leader, from the description I received, is more arrogant than Voldemort, more unstable than Bellatrix, and more ruthless than the two of them put together. Fending her Death Eaters off will be no easy task.

“I want you all to recruit as many members to Dumbledore’s—no, this is not the late headmaster’s army anymore.” She paused to think, and someone spoke up.

“How about Blackwell’s Army?”

She smiled. “Thank you, but I will only be aiding in training you, not leading you, and it is not for me that we must defend the school—rather, for someone whose past refuses to stay in the past.”

Severus entered then, coming to stand at Lysandra’s side. Her smile widened.

“You will be…Prince’s Army.” Most knew who the Half-Blood Prince was since Severus had been cleared by the Ministry.

Severus quirked an eyebrow and turned his head to look at Lysandra.

She raised hers back, daring him to challenge her decision.

“Right,” he said without looking away. “Now that that’s settled, shall we demonstrate to the younger members what exactly they’ll be learning?”

“Be my guest.”

The group parted down the middle, and the duel began.

Severus and Lysandra walked a half-circle around each other, eyes locked, and sent spells at each other in rapid succession, each testing the other’s speed, accuracy, strength. They spun and ducked, dodging jinxes and hexes, and the occasional curse. Five minutes in, they had their wands crossed, walking in a slow circle. They tested each other’s patience, looking for weakness at the same time. Lysandra’s won out; she pulled up a quick shield to block Severus’ hex. He staggered back under her counter-attack, hit the wall, and lost the duel with her wand pressing into his neck.

Or so she thought.

He sent her a wordless jinx, causing her to drop her wand from his throat. He again rapidly fired spells her way so she didn’t have a chance to do anything but defend herself. When he had her backed against a wall, he smirked. She leaned in slowly, inching her lips to his mouth, and he froze, enraptured, forgetting the students watching.

She put him on his back with a wordless hex.

“Use any distraction you can think of, everyone,” she advised, grinning as she helped him up and the students sniggered, “especially if you have history with your opponent. Now, before you go making fun of him, that wasn’t anything Severus Snape would do unless he was under a spell. He doesn’t get distracted in a duel. I wordlessly charmed him before I hexed him, otherwise I wouldn’t have actually been _able_ to hex him.”

“Now you all see how devious the Gryffindor Head of House really is,” Severus declared.

She shrugged. “He’s not wrong. Seventh years! Get groups together and start teaching the younger ones what you can. Sixth years, partner up and then do the same.”

The two leaders circled the room, giving help where it was needed. Severus turned the army’s new name over in his head. Prince’s Army. He grinned, not caring who saw. Her gesture had actually been quite touching, even though it made him think of his mother. Watching the students prepare for what may very well turn out to be another war, he wondered if she was still alive somewhere. He hoped desperately that she was as he remembered how she’d run from his father around the time he joined the Death Eaters, wondering what she would think of him if she saw him now.

The sudden, uncharacteristic sting of tears long unshed threatened to ruin his reputation completely, just as Lysandra glanced over at him, her intuition sparked. She hurried to his side and turned him so that his back was to the rest of the room just before he hugged her close, wrapping his robes around her in the process, propriety be damned. He buried his face in her hair, his whole body shaking slightly with the wave of emotion that ripped through him.

“What’s wrong?” Lysandra pleaded when something wet dripped onto her shoulder. “This is not my Severus. Are you having some sort of flashback?”

“In a way.” His voice was gruff and difficult to understand. “My mother…”

“Say no more, I understand. And don’t you dare start blaming yourself for anything,” she whispered to his chest.

He laughed once, but it was not a happy sound. “My father should be grateful I haven’t had a chance to look for him.”

“If I know you at all, then yes, he should.”

“Professor Blackwell!”

“Damn. I’ll be right back.”

He wiped the salty water of his face with his hands and picked a spot on the wall to lean back on with his arms crossed, watching the little army prepare itself. Lysandra came back a few minutes later. Severus slid slightly lower and placed his feet wider so he could hold her to his chest without having to bend over to wrap his arms around her waist. They were able to stay like that for the majority of the session, admiring the hard work of the students before them.

“Lyssa,” he murmured at her ear when the room’s occupants began to file out, deciding to show his soft side—his very small, very _exclusively accessed_ soft side.

“Yes?” She turned her head toward his voice behind her.

“Thank you.”

She chuckled. “For what, love?”

“For never running away.”

“Well, with the Vow—”

“Sod the Vow. That’s not why you stayed.”

“You’re right, of course.” She smiled as he planted kisses up and down her neck. “That feels amazing.”

“It’ll feel even more amazing later.”

“Oh, really? Pray tell, why’s that?”

“Why don’t I just show you?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

He called for a house-elf and asked him to apparate them to his chambers, where he threw her over his shoulder and then onto his bed. “I do believe, my dear, you will be waking up rather sore in the morning.”


	13. Separation Anxiety

Severus paced the Room of Requirement; Prince’s Army was steadily increasing in skill and power as well as number. There was barely enough space for all of them to practice. Whenever he or Lysandra would step up to teach them something new, they had to transfigure part of the floor into a stage so everyone could see. Students from every year had joined, although third years and below were strictly on defense and the fourth years were split between that and offense.

Lucius still hadn’t sent them an owl, and it was halfway through October already. He worried something might have happened to his friend, but he pushed the thought away; Lucius was smart enough to keep himself from getting caught.

“Weasley, you’re doing it wrong!” Draco snapped. Severus rolled his eyes. The boy and his mother had been escorted to Hogwarts two days after that first meeting with Lucius, and Draco had decided to join the ranks. Narcissa usually came to the meetings, offering help every now and then, but it was clear she was unwanted. Severus felt for her, knowing she’d never wanted anything to do with the Death Eaters or the Dark Lord in the first place.

The pair had also been inducted into the Third Order when it met for the second time a week ago. There weren’t many people left, but it was still up and running again under his and Minerva’s leadership, and the majority of its members were housed within the castle. They offered Kingsley to resume the position of leader, but the man was too busy as the Minister of Magic to lead the Order anymore.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Minerva entered the packed room to hand him one of the smallest pieces of parchment he’d ever seen. There was a single word written on it in Lucius’ elegant script: _Dusk._

 _Lovely. It’s going to be the Battle of Hogwarts over again._ The Fate imposter hadn’t mounted her attack on him and Lysandra yet, and there was really no point in doing it after she attacked the school. He didn’t understand why she wanted to attack the school in the first place, though—from what he knew, she’d had a pleasant experience there. _I wonder if she met her husband here. But then, why would she want to destroy that memory?_ He dismissed that line of thinking; he’d only go running in circles in his head of he kept it up.

Severus checked the time; it was already five. “Where is Lysandra?”

“She’s with George. They’re gathering the Order. She’ll be waiting for you at your post.”

“Good, thank you.” He transfigured the platform to address the students. “Prince’s Army!” All eyes fixed on him. “Lucius Malfoy has just informed us that the attack will be at dusk. You have an hour to prepare and get to your posts. Move!”

The room emptied in less than five minutes, Severus and Minerva splitting up to go to their own rooms. When Severus reached his, he removed his robes and just tossed them over the back of the sofa, slightly amused when he saw Lysandra’s there, too. He took of his frock coat, cravat and white button-up shirt, replacing them with a black, long-sleeved sweater, but kept his black trousers and boots. Wolfing down the food he asked a house-elf to bring him, he went over and over the list of wards he would help set before the battle.

With thirty minutes left before the sun drifted below the horizon, he took his place between Minerva and Lysandra on the viaduct courtyard bridge. The three began to speak the incantations in sync.

“ _Protego Maxima. Fianto Duri. Repello Inimicum_.”

Witches and wizards within earshot took up the chants, prompting others to do so, as well. The grim voices sounded almost like a song as the shield covered the school.

Narcissa and Draco approached the trio after the wards were laid. For a moment, they all just studied each other, and then Narcissa’s somewhat timid voice filled the eerie silence. “May we join you here, Severus?”

He nodded once. “If you think you can handle it. These are the front lines, remember.”

“We know,” Draco whispered.

Lysandra clasped Severus’ left hand. Minerva was on his other side; the mother and son had taken the space to Lysandra’s left. All five had just drawn their wands when the mass of black appeared in the sky. Lysandra flashed back to Voldemort’s order to demolish the shield as a volley of spells came from the Death Eaters flying at them. She squeezed Severus’ hand once, relaxing infinitesimally when he returned the small gesture of comfort.

Not long after holes appeared in the shield, Dark witches and wizards initiated the fray. The five at the bridge were separated almost instantly as they defended themselves against the greater number of Death Eaters in the courtyard. Lysandra took a painful hex to the back, spun to curse its caster, and whirled back to her other opponent. The two stayed on opposite sides of her to force her to turn every few seconds, but she’d fought these two many times before Voldemort was killed, and she knew their tricks. Even so, she was already sweating and gasping for breath by the time she rid herself of them both.

A woman apparated an inch in front of her, shoving her into one of the stone pillars by her neck. The air _whooshed_ from her lungs as her wand clattered to the ground.

“We meet at last,” Lachesis hissed.

“Pleasure,” Lysandra growled. Her knee collided with the white woman’s stomach; she snatched her wand up while Lachesis recovered.

She did so quickly, moving like lightning to wrap her pale hand around Lysandra’s wrist and disapparate them into a cave.

Lysandra wrenched her arm away. “ _Sectumsempra_!”

“ _Protego_!”

 _Crack!_ “Severus?”

“ _Crucio_!”

Lysandra dodged.

“Lyssa? _Langlock_!”

Bellatrix, who’d apparated Severus— _Talk about a minor miracle_ —blocked his jinx.

“Yes, yes, you’re both here.” Lachesis muttered a hex.

“ _Salvio Hexia_! Merlin, you really hold a grudge, don’t you?”

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” Bellatrix barely managed to avoid Severus’ Killing Curse.

“ _Reducto_!”

“ _Protego_!” Bella’s spell redirected to the wall.

Lysandra clenched her teeth as the tremors began, making her hands shake and her legs wobbly. She could barely stand with the added stress of fighting for her life making the tremors worse, and Lachesis noticed it.

“Weak in the knees, Blackwell?”

“Better than weak in the brain!”

“Hmm. We’ll see about that. _Cruciatus Aeternum_!”

A blood-curdling scream rent the air. Severus and Bellatrix froze where they were, but because Bella had expected it, she recovered first, and it was only when she barked a curse that Severus adjusted his attention back to her.

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” he shouted again, relieved when the curse hit its mark that time.

Lachesis clapped slowly, mocking him, with a sneer on her face. Without hesitation, Severus invaded her mind to incapacitate her; what he found had him reeling as Lysandra’s cries died on her lips, unable to make noise anymore.

“ _Petrificus Totalus_!”

Lachesis squeaked in astonishment and barely blocked the curse. “You’re a quick one.”

“And you’re torturing the woman I love. There are a number of people who will be after your life, since I can’t kill you.” A wicked grin crossed his face. He advanced on her, wand drawn, until she was backed against the stone wall. “But I can still scar you. _Sectumsempra_!”

The cut healed as soon as it formed, but the mark was still there. The woman groaned in annoyance at having her perfect skin marred and finally engaged Severus. Knowing, now, how it unnerved her, Severus took his first chance to enter her mind again, this time with a purpose: the counter-spell to the curse she’d put on Lysandra. She hadn’t thought about it more than twice, so it was difficult to find; he indulged in leaving her mind in shreds in his wake.

When he finally released Lachesis, he hoped Lysandra would be able to heal herself. “ _Sana Dolor_! Lysandra! Say it three times!” he ordered before he was once again distracted by Lachesis. His energy was waning rapidly now; there had to be a way to detain Khaye long enough to disapparate with Lysandra. Severus feared what would become of them if he couldn’t get them out—Lachesis was an extraordinary witch. She was stronger than him, he could feel it. And he hated what it meant.

“ _Crucio_!”

“ _Finite_!”

Priori Incantatem.

Lysandra was back.

Severus’ eyes widened.

 _How the bloody hell could she know their wand cores came from the same creature? Or were even the same, for that matter._ Dragon heartstring might not be that rare of a core, but there were so many dragons flying around that to use hearting from one of them in two wands was almost unheard of anymore.

“Severus!” Lysandra called as the spells battled between the wands. “Apparate back to the school the moment I redirect her curse, okay?”

He nodded. She flicked her wrist, shooting both spells to the ceiling. As she was about to disapparate, Lachesis knocked her off her feet with a wordless curse.

_She’s not dead._

_Crack!_ Lachesis apparated with him to the viaduct courtyard and disapparated again before Severus even knew where he was. When it registered, he tried to apparate to the cave, but there was an apparition charm on it, only allowing certain witches or wizards in. He knew it didn’t work the other way around—anyone could disapparate from the cave—and hoped to Circe that his eyes had deceived him.

_She’s not dead._

Lucius appeared at his side, fresh from a duel. He pulled Severus behind a pillar, shooting a spell every few seconds. “Severus? What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

_She’s not dead._

“Severus!” Lucius shook him.

“She’s _can’t_ be dead.”

“Well, seeing as the Vow didn’t kill you, I’d say she’s alive.”

“Bella was dead. Khaye’s not a Death Eater. It didn’t apply…” _She’s not dead._ “Can you apparate me to the cave?”

“No. _She_ warded the place against me after Bella found me out and tattled on me. She saw me write the note.”

 _She’s not dead._ He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to think of something else. “Where are Draco and Narcissa?”

“Back-to-back at the doors. I’ve never gotten to see Narcissa so protective before. It’s quite shocking to see her cursing our former friends.”

“Yes, yes…”

Lucius made Severus look him in the eye. “She’s alive, Severus.”

“Right…”

“Snap out of it, man! You have students to defend!”

That finally did the trick. His mind snapped to the battle at hand. “Where is George Weasley? If you’re right, and he dies, I don’t know what it’ll do to…her.”

“He and the rest of his family chased a bunch of Death Eaters into the Great Hall.”

“Thank you.” Severus ran into the castle, hoping the red-headed best friend of Lysandra was still there and _not dead_. 

* * *

 

Lysandra regained consciousness to hear Lachesis crack back into the cavern. She groaned, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “Severus?” she grumbled.

“He’s not here,” Lachesis purred, tracing a graceful path around Lysandra.

“Where is he?”

“Don’t you worry about that. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be a permanent resident in St. Mungo’s, and he’ll be dead by his own wand.”

Fire coursed through her veins, giving her the power to vault off the ground, but it was fear for Severus that made her quick enough to wrap a hand around the other woman’s throat. “You call yourself a Goddess of Death? You think you’re a Fate? Prove it!” She pushed the white woman back. “Kill me if you’re so powerful.”

Lachesis sneered. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, you little tramp!”

Lysandra raised her eyebrows and laughed. “That’s a good one, Khaye, but I noticed you haven’t raised your wand to me yet. Afraid you’ll lose?” she taunted. She got the feeling no one in their right mind would try to provoke this woman. Frankly, neither would Lysandra if she hadn’t threatened to drive Severus to suicide.

Lachesis glared at her, eyes narrowed. She aimed her wand at the center of Lysandra’s chest, but didn’t cast a spell.

“Fight me, you coward!” Lysandra shouted.

That finally set her off. Lysandra almost regretted it—the madwoman was light on her feet and quick with her words; and she was twenty years older. She kept Lysandra on defense for the better part of an hour. Eventually, the younger witch muttered a disarming spell between throwing up blocks and Lachesis lost her wand.

Lysandra’s brain sifted through different ideas. She could leave, but Lachesis would follow. She could just kill her, but then no one would be able to call the Death Eaters back.

 _Wait, can’t_ I _do it?_

She studied her Dark Mark for a few seconds. She’d been told that Voldemort used Wormtail’s Mark to call that first meeting the night he returned.

Ugh, but she needed to incapacitate Lachesis for quite a while… _Snake bite ought to do the trick. I can transform enough to be able to bite her,_ Obliviate _her, and then summon the Death Eaters back here._ Simple, right?

But where would she go once Lachesis was taken care of? She couldn’t go back to the school; they would only come back for her. And if she wasn’t there, they wouldn’t have anything to use against Severus…She sighed. It was time to make use of her cobra form.

She closed the gap between her and Lachesis, transforming as she walked. When she tasted the venom dripping from her fangs, she put her palm on Khaye’s chin to push her head up and back so she had easier access to the woman’s neck.

“Get off me, mudblood!”

“Make me, false goddess.”

Lachesis growled.

“Thought so.” Lysandra leaned forward and sunk her fangs into the pale neck of her captive, reveling in the adrenaline her body released in response. She pulled back, urging her body to become completely human again as fast as possible. After about three minutes, all evidence of her cobra was gone. She let Lachesis drop to the ground, watching her curiously.

“ _Obliviate_.” The memories seeped out of Khaye’s temple, into Lysandra’s wand.

There was a _crack_ as someone apparated into the cave.

“Hey!” Dolohov yelled. “Step away from the Fate.”

Lysandra swore, whirled, and barely blocked Dolohov’s hex. “ _Petrificus Totalus_!” He crashed to the ground.

She raised her left arm, depressed already; Severus probably thought she was being tortured some more, while she was really about to go into hiding. Pressing the tip of her wand against her Dark Mark, she hissed in pain as she summoned the other Death Eaters. Only after it stopped moving did she disapparate to Scotland’s Longhaven Cliffs; she’d visited them with her parents many times over the summer holidays before she became a spy, something not even Severus knew. No one would find her there.

She hugged herself and gazed up at the night sky, tears rolling down her face. Her whole body hurt, she was mentally and physically knackered, and she knew see wasn’t going to see anyone she loved for a very, very long time.

A mare drifted to her ten minutes later as she stood at the edge of the cliff, still crying. It studied her, as if drinking in her image, and she remembered with a start that this was no longer her patronus, but Severus’.

“Come home if you can. Please,” his voice begged. The mare disappeared. She grasped at nothing in a desperate attempt to keep him with her in some way, but it was already gone. 

* * *

 

Severus searched every inch of the grounds for Lysandra. He’d sent his patronus out half an hour ago to search for her and give her a message if she was alive. Even if she wasn’t able to travel on her own, she would have sent hers back to tell him where she was…if she was alive.

_She’s not dead._

The Malfoys watched him pace in his classroom, worried he’d go mad with grief if she never returned. Narcissa finally got to her feet to make him stop and hug him, but he just stiffened and wrenched himself away from her. Lucius volunteered to stay with Severus all night to make sure his friend didn’t do anything rash.

“I would know if she’s dead. The Vow would tell me,” Severus mumbled, pacing his sitting room. Zayne vaulted into his arms without warning; he barely managed to catch the little feline. Severus studied his lover’s familiar and, feeling something break inside him, hugged Zayne against his chest. The cat meowed in complaint and wormed away from him. “He knows something’s wrong. He never jumps at me like that, only her.”

“She’ll be fine, Severus. She’ll find her way back to you.”

_She’s not dead._

_Lysandra, where are you?_

“What if she isn’t?”

“She will be,” Lucius insisted. He hadn’t realized Severus had gotten so attached to her, even that day in Hogsmeade.

“How do you know?!” Severus broke down at last, sick with anxiety. His hands were trembling, his vision wouldn’t settle; he didn’t feel right in any way. It felt wrong for her to not be by his side. She should be reading on the couch by now, not…whatever or wherever she was.

_She’s not dead._

“I just do, Severus.” He really didn’t. He was bluffing in hopes to calm Severus down, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“You just…know? And who are you, the _God_ of Death?”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Yes, Severus, I’m a god who just chooses to spend his time on earth with all of you puny mortals.”

His friend laughed. It was harsh and void of all happiness, but it was a laugh, right? 

* * *

 

Severus nearly fell off his bed the next morning, wondering how he’d gotten any sleep. Then Lucius appeared in his doorway, and he knew he’d been drugged with a sleeping potion.

“I see you’re finally awake.”

“What time is it, Lucius?”

“One o’clock in the afternoon.” Lucius leaned on the doorframe.

“Ugh, I’ve missed nearly all my classes.” He dragged himself out of bed.

“Classes are canceled for the week.”

“Fine. Go see how Lysandra’s doing, will you?”

Lucius grimaced. “Yes, about that…”

Severus’s gaze snapped to lock with Lucius’. “She’s not here?”

“…No.”

He exhaled sharply, his legs giving out so he sat on the edge of the bed. With his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head into his hands.

“I’m sorry, Severus, but since no one’s found her by now…”

“Please don’t say it.”

“…she’s been presumed dead.”

“Liar!” Severus snapped. “She’s not dead! You said so yourself!” It sounded more like he was begging Lucius to just lie to him and say they’d found her and were recovering her as they spoke.

“I’m sorry, Severus, but I’m not lying to you.” He hated to be the one to break the news, but he didn’t trust anyone else to be able to handle Severus like this. Lucius had only seen him this way two times: when his mother fled his father, and when Lily died.

Severus fell back on the bed. She couldn’t be dead. He only just realized how important she was to him; it wasn’t fair to rip her away from him now. “It’s not fair!” he roared to the ceiling.

“Life isn’t fair,” Lucius said gently, unknowingly throwing Severus’ own words from years ago back at him.

“Get me George Weasley, will you?”

“Why?”

 _So I can be close to her through her best friend._ “He loved her like a sister. I owe it to her to make sure he’s alright.”

“Fine. Don’t do anything rash while I’m gone.”

“Fine.”

Lucius left him.

Severus felt himself slip into numbness. He felt…nothing. He was hollow. Empty. Nothing mattered anymore, not without her.

He promised to protect her, swore to die for her.

How could she be gone? How could she leave him here?

How could he have failed her and lived?


	14. Fractured Souls

A week after the battle, Severus’ students could barely stand him anymore; he was horrible. He took points from any and every house for the smallest infraction. He didn’t even let them get out “Gryffindor” or “Blackwell” before deducting at least twenty points and/or giving out detentions, and Minerva repeatedly threatened to give _him_ detention if he didn’t restrain himself, but the deputy headmaster always brushed her off. Her threats were obviously empty ones. He could tell by the pity in her eyes.

Which he _hated_.

Their army—no, it was his army, now; _she_ could no longer lead it with him—somewhat understood his perpetually horrendous moods, but he knew they hadn’t even the smallest hope of truly understanding the emotions that coursed through him whenever he thought of anything regarding _her_ ; until they themselves had felt it, they would not be in the position to put themselves in his shoes, so the Muggle saying went.

Even waking up in the morning caused him to press his hands to his face to keep from falling apart; he’d grown used to waking up next to her already. His chest would grow heavy, a painful lump would form in his throat, his breathing would become uneven, and his entire body would be wracked with tremors worse than aftershocks of the Cruciatus Curse. It never helped that the first thing he’d see besides his black ceiling was Zayne curled up with Aline on _her_ pillow. In fact, the first time he’d woken up to the sight, the air had swiftly left his lungs in something close to a sob.

As if adding insult to injury—or, more likely, just deepening a wound—his mind plagued him with both dreams and nightmares of her every night. The few dreams were really just memories of any time she’d been happy. The nightmares…those were both memories and cruel imaginings of her torture. He couldn’t even scream to wake himself up anymore; he would be paralyzed in a cold sweat until he woke in the early hours of the day before falling into exhausted, and mercifully dreamless, sleep.

 _Why must everything I love be destroyed?_ He demanded of any deity that would hear him as he made his way to the Room of Requirement. He expected no answer, and nor did he receive one.

Prince’s Army had met every other day since the battle, working on any- and everything they had the strength for. It always pained him to watch his late lover’s army and, surprisingly, to see the despondent expressions of her Gryffindors.

What made matters worse, in a way, was that Minerva had announced that there would be no new Head of House appointed for Gryffindor that year, despite it only being the last few days of October. Instead, she would provide disciplinary action while the other professors acted as a sort of collective Head, if they weren’t one already.

His ears were immediately assaulted upon entering the Room.

“Take it back!” Ginny Weasley spat.

“Why should I?” Zoe Accrington countered. “She was allied with mudbloods and blood traitors! That makes her just as bad as you Weasleys and the Granger girl!”

“How do you even think that when you’re a member of Prince’s Army?!”

“Because Professor bloody Blackwell—”

“Miss Accrington,” Severus cut in, voice deathly low as the line between his eyes deepened. “You will leave this room immediately and never return, as well as serve detention once a week with Filch for the rest of the year. You have also lost fifty pints from your House on the grounds of essentially calling a former professor the equivalent of both a mudblood and a blood traitor, of which she is neither.”

“ _Was_ neither, sir,” Miss Weasley muttered. He ignored her.

“Who do you think you are, Snape?” Accrington asked indignantly.

His temper was piqued, not a difficult feat to accomplish, and his reply echoed off the walls. “I am your professor, your Head of House, and the deputy headmaster to this school. Is that not enough for you, or do you suggest I take Shacklebolt’s position as Minister? Please inform me if I should, for I could not _bear_ my current positions to be insufficient in earning your presently nonexistent respect!”

The students gaped; Zoe scurried from the room.

“Well? Get on with it!” he barked to the crowd. They resumed the practice that Zoe had interrupted, and Severus fell heavily into a chair in the back corner of the room.

Knackered and infuriated, he summoned his patronus. The beautiful mare betrayed his foul mood, tossing her head and snorting irritably whenever anyone so much as looked at her or her summoner. Her tail flicked constantly as she paced back and forth, closer and farther from him, in the limited space around his chair.

He dropped his head in one hand, wishing Lachesis would just come for him already. He was more than ready to die. With a surge of guilt, he pushed that thought back. _She_ would maul him if she’d known he was thinking such a thing, and he had responsibilities here: there was their—his—army to train, Lachesis to thwart, Death Eaters to kill or imprison…he sighed. His life had been his own for all of two-and-a-half months, and then Lachesis had gone and ordered Bella’s first attack on _her_.

 _Surely I should have felt something when she died…? No, that’s ridiculous; there’s no way to_ feel _when someone dies._

He had his head in both hands now; his patronus launched herself at him by way of disappearing, evaporating the moment she touched him. Severus slumped forward in his chair, desperately trying to hold back the tears that would signal that he was wholly and truly broken. It was Lily all over again.

No. This was a thousand times worse.

Every fiber of his being longed to hear her voice, feel the chill of her hands as it contradicted the warmth of the rest of her, smell her hair, taste her lips, see the utter love and acceptance in her eyes…

He emitted that almost-sob of an exhalation for the second time since the battle.

Ice-blue irises were suddenly staring at a dawn sky the next day, their owner snapping awake for no other reason than paranoia. Lysandra groaned, not yet registering where she was. After a moment, realization crashed into her, and she could not find the strength nor want to rise. She had nothing of importance to do, so there was no need to get up anyway.

She groaned a second time upon finding that she’d reverted back to her human form in her sleep, just like she always did. She tried, every night, to sleep as a cobra, for two reasons: no one would want to mess with an eighteen-foot serpent, even in sleep, and she didn’t dream when she was a snake. On the first night, she’d only been able to sleep two hours at a time, which was long enough to remember if she’d dreamed, and managed to stay a cobra because of the short amount of time; it was like she’d taken one of Severus’ dreamless sleep potions.

Heartache exploded within her. Distraction was in order.

“ _Expecto Patronum_.” The light-ribbon cobra formed before her eyes. “Collect the news of today, please. You’ll be discreet, yes?”

The ethereal creature nodded and slithered off through the air to find out what was happening in the wizarding world that day.

She stood, slowly, hugging herself as she peered out over Scotland’s Longhaven Cliffs, as she did each day at dawn and dusk. Actually, it was almost _all_ she did; there was nothing else to occupy her time, nothing to distract her but her own mind. Time and again, however, she found herself unable to think up a lasting diversion.

Her patronus returned faster than she thought it would, telling her, “Nothing new today, I’m afraid. The Ministry has not found any more leads and there is no news of Snape.”

With a wave of her wand, she dismissed the snake and he faded to nothing.

Biting her lip, she raised her gaze to the still-starry sky. Her death had been announced the week before; she knew he must in a state. “If I were dead, I would have found a way to come to you,” she swore to sky. Tears stinging her eyes, she dropped her gaze to study her Dark Mark. Her hand came up so her middle finger could trace it, feeling a twisted sense of nostalgia. They had worn it with a certain amount of pride, though small it was, when Voldemort was alive; in spite of their strenuous mission and Severus’ past, they’d been able to recognize that having the Dark Mark would garner respect once the war was over, at least for them. It symbolized just how dedicated to Light they were, that they would agree to wield Dark magic to the point of damaging their souls, and now it only served as a reminder of the man whose heart she’d surely crushed.

The tears finally fell, rolling hotly down her cheeks. She missed him dreadfully. He had opened up to her at last, and she was forced to run away like a coward to protect him. Oh, he would be the worst sort of angry whenever she found her way back to him. No doubt they would have a row, and a right nasty one at that.

She cracked a sad smile; maybe he wouldn’t be irate with her. Maybe he would just be so ecstatic to see her alive and relatively unharmed that he wouldn’t start a fight.

Then again, if he did that, she might have to admit him to St. Mungo’s.

On the other hand…if he didn’t start yelling straight off, she was sure he would once the relief wore off.

She jumped severely enough that she fell over when a patronus appeared next to her, terrifying her beyond thought before she heard Snape’s drunken-sounding voice coming out of it. “You need to come back. It’s hell here without you. Rise from whatever grave you’ve fallen into and come back to me. I can’t go on like this.”

 _He’s rather poetic when he’s drunk,_ she thought as the mare disappeared, purposely being shallow. Suddenly, she gasped, eyes widening. _Oooh, I do hope he’s too far gone to notice she actually ran off to tell me that. He can’t know I’m alive! I only barely avoided his patronus the last time. Ugh, how foolish to not be watching for it. I should have known he’d turn to his firewhiskey at some point_ , she berated herself. _It’s a bit early for alcohol, though._

She let herself fall back in the long grass and began picking a few blades to make her daily attempt at weaving them together. She managed to distract herself with that until about midday before she couldn’t take it anymore, descending into suffocating sobs without any outward warning other than the shining of her eyes. 

* * *

 

Minerva stormed into Severus’ office without bothering to knock, finding exactly what she expected: a drunken Potions Master sprawled across his couch with a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand and a stupid grin on his face.

“Minerva! Would you like a drink?” He held the bottle up to her.

“Why are you not in class?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

He pouted. “I didn’t want to go.”

“You do not have a choice, Severus. Take a sobering potion and go teach your students. Now.”

“Must I?” he sighed.

“Yes!”

“Very well.” He stood on unsteady legs and barely managed to stay vertical as he searched his private storeroom for a potion that would sober him up, nearly spilling it all over himself when he took the stopper out of the phial. The fog in his brain cleared within minutes, but he remembered nothing from before Minerva walked in.

“Get to class,” she ordered the moment he walked back into her line of sight, and left him standing there.

He passed through the small office that separated his chambers from his classroom, putting on a mask of indifference and condescension. Directions for his—he checked the clock—third years appeared on the board with a flick of his wand, and with a sharp bark of an order for them to get working, they tore their curious eyes from him and began brewing their potions.

Hands clasped tightly behind his back, Severus paced up and down the rows of students, glaring at each of them in turn and doing his best to keep his mind blank. He couldn’t afford to lose himself in front a room full of students. He would have to wait until after he finished rounds that night to let the grief overwhelm him, as he let it every night.

However, when his rounds were over around midnight, he returned to his chambers to find a note magically attached to his door. Lifting the charm to remove the parchment, he read,

 

_Professor Snape,_

_I’ve made a most unexpected, but welcome, discovery._

_Meet me in the Hog’s Head tomorrow at lunchtime._

_-L_

_P.S.-Trust me, this is news you want to hear._

Oh, he would never get to sleep now.

And he didn’t, of course. He was thankful the next day wasSaturday, so he wouldn’t have to teach a bunch of dunderheaded students on no sleep. That was just a disaster waiting to happen.

Severus arrived at the pub at exactly twelve o’clock. Lucius was easy to spot, with his long, bright, blonde hair standing out against the dark atmosphere of the pub. He took a seat across from his old friend at the booth Lucius had picked out for them.

“Let’s not waste time on pleasantries, if you don’t mind,” Snape said.

Lucius nodded once. “Very well. Have you been informed of Khaye’s condition?”

Severus exhaled in a low hiss. “What are you talking about?” There hadn’t been anything in the news about that insane woman’s “condition,” only her endeavors.

“I thought not. Well, I’m not going to tell you how I came about this information because I don’t want you to go gallivanting off to torture a location form my source, but your Lys—”

“Don’t”

“Your _lover_ , then, apparently was able to sink her teeth into Khaye before she…well, you know. The others think she used the _Serpensortia_ spell, though.” Severus had told him of _her_ recently-acquired status of Animagus, and what her form was, in the days following the battle.

“And?” Snape prompted, hopeful.

Lucius grinned a bit wickedly. “The effect of her venom was described as fire running through Khaye’s veins, needles pricking every inch of her skin, and acid melting her flesh, all wrapped up in one.”

“Merlin’s beard! Did it kill her?”

“No.” Severus’ expression darkened. “But it paralyzed her for a full week and she’s still trying to master her ‘fine motor skills,’ or whatever they’re called. And she may still be in a great deal of pain.

Pride washed through Severus. His cobra had put up a magnificent fight.

Confusion replaced his pride. How had Khaye managed to kill _her_ after being injected with venom that aggressive?

“Why was she not on the school grounds, then? Surely, if Khaye was in that much pain, she wouldn’t have been able to put up a worthy fight!”

Lucius dropped his gaze, his brow furrowed, to scrutinize his knotted-together hands. “I heard that, too. She never left the cave, Severus. Her venom must not have taken effect right away. She stayed behind to fight.”

_She sacrificed herself for me._

“She was trying to protect you,” his friend stressed, seeing the dark emotion sweeping over Severus. “She knew you couldn’t kill Lachesis.”

 _She_ died _for me_.

“Severus?”

“…I’m going to be sick.”

“Please be sick in _that_ direction, then.” Lucius pointed away from himself, keeping the pity from reaching his eyes. Snape was likely to murder him if he saw it.

Severus’ stomach churned; he tasted bile in his mouth. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he kept it down, glad he hadn’t eaten anything yet.

Lucius wanted to tell Severus that he’d also overheard the careless Death Eaters mention that it was very possible Lysandra Blackwell could actually be alive, but in the much more likely case that she wasn’t, he didn’t want to set Severus up for further devastation. The man had only ever loved two women, after all, and they’d both been murdered by two of the worst wizards in history. The faster he was able to heal, the better; no use in drawing out the process and creating more pain.

When winter settled in a month later, Lucius hoped she was warm and safe, wherever she was, if, miraculously, she was alive. 

* * *

 

Cold and _barely_ alive was more like it. One of the Death Eaters had stumbled upon her hiding place during the night; her escape had only been possible on account of the ease with which she was woken. He’d heard her running because of the three inches of half-frozen snow, but she had a head start and eventually managed to get in Severus’ _Sectumsempra_ curse when she’d been running for so long that her throat felt raw.

She’d promptly crumpled in on herself as his blood began to stain the snow scarlet. He’d landed more than a few painful hexes and a curse or two; standing was difficult without the adrenaline.

She didn’t care how ridiculously cold the snow was, or even that she’d just killed a man. All that mattered, all she could ever think about, was that Severus wasn’t there to hold her, soothe her, as he’d always done when she was upset, whether he wanted to or not. To her, Severus Snape was solace itself, ever since Voldemort’s cruel “initiation” during her first Death Eater meeting.

And she might never see him again, because Lachesis might not have died. The false Fate would surely decide to kill Severus since she couldn’t kill Lysandra, and he would never know she’d been alive the whole time.

 _Stop thinking like that. You’ll get back to him at some point_ , she told herself. “Before Spring, I hope.”

Nonetheless, she was still evading the occasional Death Eater and Snape’s searching patronus when March came. He’d sent it out at least once a week since it delivered its drunken message to her, but she hid from it every time as it herded her closer to the school, of which both of them were unaware until she saw him.

Lysandra scolded herself severely for her lack of attention even as her heart leapt at seeing him—there was absolutely no excuse for failing to notice a bloody _castle_ , especially when said castle was her home for more than half her life.

He was standing with his back to her at the edge of the Black Lake, on the opposite shore of Hogwarts. It was a wonder he hadn’t heard her mucking about in the forest at his back, dodging his patronus. His hands were clasped behind his back and the slight breeze was gently lifting his hair when the mare returned to his side and disappeared. Even without seeing his face, she knew he was shocked his patronus was back so soon as he casted it again.

She growled low enough that he couldn’t hear and dodged the creature again, half-panicking when it seemed to find her, but relaxed when she turned away and went to Severus’ side.

Although…why would it go back to him if it didn’t know Lysandra was there?

_Bloody hell!_

Scowling, Severus finally turned his back on the lake to examine the treeline. Lysandra held her breath as his eyes scanned over her hiding place behind a bush until he spun again to study the small waves. She let the breath escape her.

He whirled, eyes narrowed. _Shit. How did he_ not _hear me earlier?_ “Who’s there?”

_As if I’m going to sodding announce my presence! You know better than that, you fool._

“I didn’t think so,” he murmured just loud enough for her to hear. “You might as well come out, unless you’d rather me _Confringo_ the area.”

She groaned inwardly, about to step out, when he raised his wand. She bolted out of the way, landing in a heap behind a tree just as he said the spell.

“Come out, coward!” he roared.

 _Who on_ earth _would confront you now?!_

With a snarl of what Lysandra suspected to be pent up remorse, grief, and fury, Severus cast the Firestorm charm, sending it out twenty feet. She had no choice but to mutter a speedy, “ _Aguamenti_ ,” to avoid suffering third-degree burns, even though she knew he would see the break in the ring of fire. He extinguished it with a charm she did not know, immediately heading for her hiding place. She scrambled to hide again, briefly wondering why, exactly, she was still tryin to keep him from knowing she was there, having forgotten in her desperation to remain undetected—or unnamed, at least.

Her necklace caught on something as she tried to escape; she was forced to let the clasp break in order to get away, instantly mourning its loss; it was a simple thing, sterling silver, but the pendant was a cobra knotted around itself. She’d found it in a little Muggle shop in Longhaven proper when she was unable to bear the constant solitude any longer. Now, she regretted it; it would be obvious who was here if and when he found the thing.

And find it, he did. Wonder replaced the other emotions on his face, and then a frantic need did. He scanned the trees, desperately hoping to find her. As an experiment, he cast his patronus again, about to have it find her and not leave her side until he could see her, but the crack of disapparition sounded behind him before the words left his mouth.

He leaned against a tree and sank to the ground, staring at the necklace in his hand. He knew it was her; it had to be. But she’d fled, rather than face him, and he couldn’t for the life of him even begin to understand why. He could barely comprehend that she wasn’t dead.

_Why would she leave me here again? Doesn’t she love me still?_


	15. The Return

Lysandra reappeared on Longhaven Cliffs, in the exact spot she’d apparated to in October, and she was surprised she remembered that spot, considering it was now late March. Out of habit, she sent her patronus out to search for news, telling it to search at least three towns or cities; it probably wouldn’t be back for another hour. She hugged herself against the wind, letting silent tears fall down her cheeks as her hair whipped around her face and snow began to fall. _Snow in March? Ugh, only in the United Kingdom._

The stress, grief, and depression of the last five months were all suddenly too much for her to bear. Curling her hands into fists, she screamed her pain to the dull, grey sky. When her throat was raw from such overuse, she fell to the ground, pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and stared out at the North Sea with wet, unseeing eyes until her cobra returned.

“I overheard a few people saying Khaye is planning another attack.”

“What, why?! When?!”

It didn’t have a chance to answer before she heard a small _crack._

She stiffened with a quiet gasp as it sounded again, but five times rather than one. She whirled to face them, wand drawn.

“Well, well, well, look who finally showed up,” Fenrir Greyback growled, flanked by Antonin Dolohov, Rodolphus Lestrange, and the Carrows.

“How did you find me, Greyback?”

“I believe Jugson stumbled upon you a few months ago; he summoned us here when you fled after dealing a killing blow,” Lestrange answered. She could see the hate in his eyes and she had no doubt he was plotting revenge for Bellatrix, even though Lysandra wasn’t the one that killed her in the first place.

She gave no answer, and none of them said anything, so they all stood there with their wands drawn. The five Death Eaters were a small army compared to her, especially considering four of them could take her down in two seconds flat if no magic was involved. Lysandra didn’t like her odds.

“Run, little witch,” Greyback cooed, if werewolves could do such a thing.

She ran.

Curses and hexes flew past her faster than they had in the First Battle of Hogwarts—or the second, for that matter. She cast her own curses over her shoulder whenever she could spare a moment to look away from where she was putting her feet. Her heart raced, pounding almost painfully against her ribcage, her pulse increasing every time a spell came within a foot of her.

Blindly, she threw the Eternity Curse behind her, satisfied when it found a victim less than a second later. However, her small victory came to an end when she was caught with a hex that knocked her off her feet. She tumbled to the ground and rolled ten feet down the slight hill, finding herself surrounded by her remaining four pursuers once she was able to raise her head to examine her position. All but Amycus stood around her; Alecto looked especially angry.

Steeling herself, Lysandra cried, “ _Sectumsempra_ ,” making a slashing movement in Alecto’s direction, and cast a shield charm to block Lestrange and Greyback’s spells while she narrowly dodged Dolohov’s.

“Clever little thing,” Rodolphus remarked.

“Too bad we’ll have to kill her eventually,” Greyback added.

“Let’s get on with it, boys; Lachesis said to bring her in as soon as possible,” Dolohov nearly whined.

The other two wizards immediately began to argue; they wanted to play with her some more, and Khaye would never know, anyway. Why couldn’t they have some fun? Lestrange got tired of waiting and tried to wordlessly curse her with an impatient huff, but she dodged and hexed him, rendering him unconscious.

Dolohov rid her of her wand with a disarming charm, making her glad she’d practiced transforming into a cobra so much over the last five months that she was as quick as Minerva with it. The shocked expressions on her assailants’ faces as their eyes took in an eighteen-foot king cobra instead of a wide-eyed witch were priceless; she used that minor advantage to strike at Dolohov’s wand arm. He cried out as her fangs found purchase and was on the ground before she’d pulled back completely.

She hissed, flaring her hood, and rose as tall as she could—six feet—to more or less look Greyback in the eye. They sized each other up, his eyes narrowed and following her as she swayed back and forth. His hunter instincts appeared to take over; he cast an experimental spell, testing her reflexes. She returned with a feigning strike to the left side of his body. He circled her, a snarl on his face, but because she could twist around to see him no matter where he was, he couldn’t attack from behind.

When he was directly in front of her again, she went for his neck, but he was too far away for her to be as quick as she thought she would be and grabbed for her with his left hand, jabbing his wand into her chin. She hissed and squirmed; his grip was just high enough that she couldn’t move her head to bite his hand or wrist.

For reasons she didn’t want to know, he held her like that for a while; she continued to writhe, her body becoming uncomfortably cold in the snow, and she knew that would force her to change back eventually. As she desperately wracked her brain for a way out, she realized she was nearly twenty feet long—about three times the height of the werewolf cutting off her air. She might not be a constrictor, but she knew she had a fair amount of muscle packed into this body.

Being careful to make sure he thought she was still trying to wriggle away from him, she began to shift her body to vaguely circle his feet. His attention was solely on her furious amber eyes, a mistake she hoped would cost him his life or, at the very least, serious injury. Once she was finally wrapped around his feet, she pulled her coiled body tighter, sending them both into the snow. His grip loosened just enough for her to slide through his hand a few inches, which was more than enough. She bit into his hand, then his arm, and finally his shoulder until, at last, she was able to slither out from underneath him.

She snapped back into her human body, gasping for air and searching for her wand; she eventually found it at the base of a tree. Turning back to her four victims, the fifth lying in the snow far enough away that she couldn’t see him, she was amazed both that she was alive and that Greyback still had his wand. She disarmed him, catching the smooth wood in her free hand, and fell back against the tree to slide to the ground.

Breathing heavily, she took inventory of her injuries. She hadn’t realized so many curses had hit her. _Must have been the adrenaline._ She found pain in the right side of her lower back, a shallow gash across her ribs, more pain in her left wrist and hand, a deeper gash on her right shoulder blade, and a multitude of bruises already forming. She healed herself as best she could, but it was difficult with her wand hand injured. Nonetheless, she was healed just enough to apparate without splinching herself in half an hour, though she still needed someone else with more healing skills than hers to finish the job.

She let her head fall back to rest against the tree, closing her eyes. “I should not be alive right now,” she murmured, her breath making a small cloud in front of her.

So, Lachesis was planning an attack. She obviously knew Lysandra was alive, so there was no point in continuing her self-imposed exile. She shivered as she thought of what Severus’ reaction might be, gripped both her and Greyback’s wands tighter, closed her eyes, and disapparated.

Reappearing at the Black Lake, in the forest just beyond the grassy beach, she found two men she never thought she’d see together for a second time skipping stones on the water’s calm surface.

“Are you sure it was hers, Snape?” George asked, uncertainty coloring his tone. “I mean, I never saw her wearing anything like that unless you count her Dark Mark.”

“Yes,” Severus growled. “It’s hers. I know it is. She’s alive.”

“Why would she run from you, then?” the red-head inquired gently.

Severus’ shoulders slumped. Lysandra’s heart broke for him; he looked more defeated than she’d ever seen him. “Perhaps she realized she doesn’t love me after all.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his frock coat. “Perhaps she’s afraid I’ll be like my father, and decided to follow my mother’s example.”

George gave the older wizard his full attention, putting a hand on his shoulder and forcing Severus to face him, to look him in the eye. The neck of his coat was open; Lysandra tilted her head at seeing this, wondering why, until George’s voice drew her attention. “I knew Lysandra. Maybe not as well as you, but I did know her.” Ah, so he thought she was dead. It was just as well. “She did not run away from problems. If she didn’t love you, she would have told you so. If she thought you’d be like your father, she wouldn’t have started a relationship with you in the first place.”

“How would you know? You didn’t have any sort of relationship with her until May.” Lysandra almost wanted to smack him for being so stubborn, but she understood what he was going through, if only vaguely, and how hard he always was on himself.

“She was my sister. She filled the void left by…by Fred. Even though we weren’t actually related, she was as much my twin as Fred ever was.”

Lysandra had to bite her lip to keep from making some ridiculous, heartbroken noise. Here she was, thinking the only person who would be hurt deeply by her disappearance would be Severus, but George’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

Snape stared at the other man for a few minutes before nodding once, slowly, and George clapped him on the back before turning back to skipping stones.

“ _Expecto Patronum_ ,” she muttered. The cobra awaited her message, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what to tell it. “Tell them…tell them I love them dearly. Tell them I’ve missed them. Tell them to prepare Prince’s Army…” She looked back at the two men who had so thoroughly attached themselves to her heart. “Actually…just tell them...I’m here, even if they can’t see me.” She cast a disillusionment spell over herself as her patronus hovered over to them, stopping between their bodies.

They both jolted in surprise and gaped. When the creature evaporated into nothing, they frantically scanned the treeline for her. Severus moved to search the forest, but George held him back.

“Don’t, Snape. If she doesn’t want us to find her yet, then we won’t. There’s no point, mate.”

“She’s in there! I think I’ve earned the right to find her!”

“Look, Professor, I know you miss her. I miss her, too. But you can’t just go off and look for her when she doesn’t want you to.”

A flash of light at Severus’ throat caught her eye as they argued. Lysandra frowned and squinted, trying to see what it was. She gasped when the light finally stopped reflecting off of it; it was her necklace.

“Fine,” Severus growled, ripping his arm from George’s grasp. “I won’t go looking for her.” He crossed his arms like an angry child, but as his eyes skimmed the treeline one last time, the single tear that fell down his cheek was impossible for Lysandra to miss.

She watched them for what felt like hours. They didn’t talk much, mostly just commenting on a particularly good or bad skip. It was dusk before any of them thought of returning to the castle. Lysandra had to cast a _muffliato_ to keep them from hearing her while they all trekked around the lake after the first step she took resulted in a loud _snap!_ from a twig.

She shook her head when Severus didn’t show any signs of having heard it. _Oh, so he can hear a gasp from twenty feet away, but not a twig snap_ ten _feet away?_

Clouds suddenly blocked the moon, causing the three to look up in surprise, only to see seven figures on brooms. They circled the castle as if searching for something, then moved over the Quidditch pitch. Seemingly deciding their query wasn’t there, they flew toward the Black Lake. George and Severus had stopped walking and had their wands drawn, as did Lysandra. The seven wizards saw the men and immediately picked up their speed, descending on the lake.

A flash of white from beneath black robes alerted them to Khaye’s presence as the group touched down, tossing their brooms aside and drawing their wands.

“Your tramp killed my best Death Eaters!” she hissed without preamble.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Khaye,” Severus growled.

“I sent Dolohov, Greyback, Lestrange, and the Carrows after her. Amycus has gone mad, and the rest are dead!” She sent him a hex.

“ _Salvio Hexia!_ Do you mean to tell me that she took on five wizards, one of which was a werewolf, and killed almost all of them?”

The lunatic woman didn’t answer, instead choosing to mount her attack. The other six wizards—she knew they were Death Eaters by the way the Vow made the light scars on her right hand and wrist burn, but she didn’t recognize any of them—followed suit instantly, four going after George and two helping Khaye with Severus.

Lysandra hissed rather than growled, firing off jinxes and hexes that didn’t give off light when cast, so no one would know where they were coming from. She wasn’t able to do much damage, but she made up for that in the distraction of the Death Eaters. It wasn’t enough, however; after an hour of dueling, only one Death Eater was down and she wasn’t even sure if he was dead or just unconscious. Nearly-harmless jinxes and hexes weren’t doing George and Severus much good.

After checking to make sure she had a place to bolt, she muttered, “ _Reducto_!” She darted behind a tree, just barely avoiding the same curse from another Death Eater as the wizard next to him was reduced to a pile of ash. She crept around to stand behind a witch, whispering so low she could barely hear herself, “ _Serpensortia_.”

A small, brown, hooded snake appeared on her shoulders and, before she’d fully registered its existence, sunk its fangs into her neck. She yowled in pain, dropping her wand in panic to get the thing away from her. George took the opportunity to curse her, and she fell to the ground. Lysandra left the snake for someone else to vanish to examine the fight.

Three of the wizards were down, leaving Severus to handle Khaye while George took on the other three. Lysandra started sending off jinxes and hexes again, casting one for each of their opponents in turn.

“Looks like your little girlfriend is protecting you again,” Lachesis taunted with a smirk. She hadn’t even broken a sweat yet.

“Seeing as I cannot kill you, I hardly find that insulting,” he retorted.

George felled another wizard with Lysandra’s help, though she was sure he didn’t even know she was there, because he was clearly too busy to have heard Khaye. His remaining adversaries moved to either side of him, forcing George to turn his back on one in order to block a spell from the other.

The wizard at her adopted brother’s back raised his wand as his partner claimed all of George’s attention. Feeling the disillusionment spell fade, she pressed herself to George’s back and cried, “ _Protego_!”

His eyes bulged, full of pure shock.

She took the element of surprise to curse him. “ _Sectumsempra_!”

“Good to have you back,” George breathed as he cursed the wizard in front of him, who was also wide-eyed in shock.

“Let’s save the welcomes for later, shall we? He won’t be able to handle Lachesis much longer.”

He nodded; they positioned themselves behind Severus. Khaye grinned evilly at seeing Lysandra at Severus’ right flank. She feigned to his right with a harmless jinx, causing both him and George to send curses back. With both of them leaning away from Lysandra, Khaye sent a curse her way, forcing her to announce her presence to Severus by casting another _Protego_.

The dark man whirled to face her; Lysandra knew he couldn’t help it. But, with Severus directly before her now, she could only cry, “Watch out!” when Khaye cursed him, knowing his and George’s shields wouldn’t come quick enough.

She caught him as he collapsed forward, pinned to the ground beneath his greater weight. George dueled Lachesis as Lysandra wriggled out from under Severus and turned him onto his back, only to find his eyes shut and his pulse gone.

“No!”

The other witch cackled. George was barely holding his own against her.

Lysandra rose slowly, her expression stormy. She tossed her wand aside and took Greyback’s from her pocket. “ _Sectumsempra_!” Khaye’s forearm split open, exactly where Lysandra had intended.

Lachesis gasped. “How dare you!”

“How dare I? How dare _I_? How dare _you_! _Impedimenta_! _Langlock_!”

George rushed to Severus to see if there was anything he could do, but could only sit on the ground next to the professor’s head as his lover descended on his killer.

Khaye attempted wordless spells, but Lysandra, in her rage, had the reflexes of a true cobra; none of the dark witch’s spells met their mark.

“What’s wrong, Lachesis? Snake got your tongue?” She opened another wound on Khaye’s other forearm and toyed with her for a few more minutes until her _Langlock_ wore off.

“ _Crucio_!”

“ _Finite_!”

“ _Expulso_!”

“ _Protego_!”

“Are you too cowardly to fight back now, Animagus?”

Lysandra smirked. “ _Avada Kedavra!_ ”

Lachesis was thrown backwards onto the grass, dead before she landed.

Lysandra stared at her, unwilling to face Severus’ dead form.

“Lyssa,” George murmured into the silent darkness, “come here.”

“I don’t want to see him, George,” she pleaded. “Not like that.”

“You need to.”

She turned to walk over to him and fell to her knees next to George, feeling tears well up in her eyes. She fingered her necklace where it sat against the hollow at the base of his throat. George rubbed her back in wide circles, the only thing he could think of to do; he knew she’d push him away if he tried to hug her. He watched as she leaned over to kiss his forehead before pulling him into her lap. She pushed his hair away from his face and curled around his torso, letting the tears fall and the sobs shake her. George hung his head, studying his hands.

An arm came around Lysandra just as a loud gasp stunned her and George. With a small shriek, she sat up.

“You’ve returned,” Severus rasped.

Lysandra pulled him upright to wrap her arms around him more securely. “Don’t you ever die on me again, Severus Snape!”

“Hypocrite,” he muttered into her neck.


	16. Adding to the Family

Madame Pomfrey kept Severus asleep for the next twenty-four hours to give his body time to recover from, well, dying. Lysandra would have liked to stay by his bed, but was forced to announce her return and tell her story to the papers. Zayne refused to be put down until his mistress finally laid down for bed, at which time he curled into a tight ball in the middle of her back.

She’d reconnected with George in between interviews and healing sessions, feeling more and more guilty for leaving everyone as the night, and then the day, wore on. The red-head assured her time and again that they would all understand, even if it took them a while.

“You were protecting your soul mate. They respect that,” he told her as they stood at Severus’ bedside the next night, waiting for him to wake.

“Don’t tell that to the reporters. They’ll undoubtedly start on something regarding Lily Potter. I don’t want him reliving that pain again.” Her fingertips ghosted over his face, tracing his features.

“I won’t, but I think Lily will be mentioned either way.”

Lysandra sighed. “Then I’ll make sure he doesn’t see it.”

“I knew you’d say something like that. Are you coming to dinner?”

“No.”

“I’ll see you later, then.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, gave her a quick hug, and left the hospital wing for the Great Hall.

Lysandra crawled onto the small bed, wrapping her arm around Severus’ waist as she draped one leg over his thighs. She nuzzled into his neck, her chin on his shoulder and her nose brushing his jaw. Knowing he’d be waking up soon, she kissed his neck, letting her lips linger on his chilled skin. Her vision grew blurry the longer she waited, until the salty tears spilled over.

Long, pale fingers traced a comforting pattern on the arm around Severus’ waist. Lysandra lifted her head, only to be dragged back down with the fierce hug he pulled her into.

The jasmine scent of her hair was a thousand times better than what he remembered. His eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled it after being denied it for months, before he brought her head up to kiss her squarely on the mouth. By the time they pulled apart, she was straddling him and his hands were knotted in her hair.

“I missed you,” he whispered shakily. “Why did you leave?” His voice broke.

She placed a hand on his cheek. “I was keeping you safe. Khaye didn’t have anyone to torture you with while she thought I was dead.”

“How?”

“I managed to disarm her, half-transformed into a cobra—it would have taken too long to do it properly—and bit her. I Obliviated her and the Death Eater that apparated in before I left, and then summoned the rest of the Death Eaters with my Mark,” she explained in a rush.

He cupped her neck. “Where were you?”

“Longhaven Cliffs. Your patronus accidentally herded me toward the school.”

“The necklace, was it—”

“Yes, it was me that day. You knew that.”

He gazed at her, debating. Should he ask the question begging to come out of his mouth, or let it go? He could use Legilimency on her later, but he’d promised never to use it on her unless she gave him permission. He sighed; might as well ask. The sooner he knew, the better. “Lyssa…did you ever love me?”

She looked insulted at first, but then seemed to realize he was truly in the dark about it. She threaded her fingers through his hair before she answered with a forceful, “Yes.”

“Despite everything you’ve been through because of me? Even though you’ve seen the worst of me? You love me, after all this time?”

“Always.” She kissed him one more time and snuggled into him, her head just under his chin.

She was half-asleep when Madame Pomfrey told Severus he could leave. He muttered his thanks, gently sitting up and shifting her in his lap so that he was holding her bridal-style when he stood. His steps and his heartbeat lulled her to sleep as he carried her to their quarters. She stirred again when he laid her on the bed and removed her shirt, shoes, pants, and robes, leaving her to sleep in her underwear for the night. He changed into pajama bottoms and slid in next to her, pulling the covers over them both. Sensing his presence beside her, she turned over to entangle her body with his.

Severus woke in the middle of the night, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and breathing heavily. Lysandra was still latched onto his side, which was the only thing that convinced him she was back after the nightmare that caused his waking. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

He wasn’t supposed to have nightmares when she was in his bed. She was like a Muggle dream catcher for him, warding off the bad dreams to allow him peaceful sleep.

He hadn’t realized she was also awake until she muttered for him to go back to sleep.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” she questioned tiredly.

“Nightmare.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder. “I thought you didn’t have those when I slept here.”

“So did I.”

“What was it about?” His lover pouted, almost looking insulted. He chuckled, forgetting for half a second.

“A scenario of what could have happened in Khaye’s lair the day you left.”

“Well, I’m never going anywhere ever again. I’ve missed sleeping with you more than anything else, I think.”

Sleeping with him…

He rolled on top of her.

“What are you doing, Severus?”

“What do you think?” He kissed from her mouth to her collarbone and back again, and she wrapped her legs around his hips.

“I take it back; I’ve missed _this_ the most.” She smiled, arching her back to get closer.

“Show me how much.” 

* * *

 

The Great Hall was abuzz with excitement at breakfast the next morning; everyone was excited to have her back. Lysandra was greeted with heartfelt cheers from all the students and applause by the staff. Her Gryffindors crowded around her at the entrance, completely ignoring the man whose arm she was on, to hug her. Quite a few of the Slytherins went over to welcome her back as well, though they chose to shake her hand rather than embrace her. She took no offence to their distance; those of her lover’s House, and her lover himself, rarely showed public affection beyond walking arm-in-arm.

It was the middle of May, about a month and a half after her return, when the students finally got over their enthusiasm. She’d offered to ask Minerva to let George continue teaching along with her, since his classes loved him so much, and Ron was perfectly fine with running the shop for another month. The headmistress agreed without hesitation. The two Defence professors decided to switch between professor and teaching assistant every day.

Lysandra was walking through the corridors with Severus’ arm around her, keeping her warm, after dinner one night when Minerva found them.

“Severus! Come quickly, there’s something you need to see!”

“Is something wrong?” Severus asked as a line appeared between his eyes. He pulled Lysandra closer, thinking there might be danger. He’d kept her as close to him as possible, afraid she might disappear.

“Just come along! Lysandra, you as well.” Minerva turned to leave, knowing they’d follow. Severus removed his arm to grasp her hand so it was easier to keep up with the old witch.

Minerva said the password that allowed them entrance to her office and led them through to her private sitting room. There was a woman sitting before the fire, sipping her tea, but all they could see of her was her long, black hair.

“Here he is,” Minerva said as the couple was still entering the room. Lysandra wondered why she said “he” instead of “they,” but her question was answered when the woman stood and turned around. Her hair reached to the small of her back and her eyes were darker even than Severus’, her skin just as pale.

Severus stopped so suddenly that Lysandra nearly fell. His hand tightened almost painfully around hers. “Mother,” he gasped.

The woman smiled warmly. “My son.”

“Lysandra,” Minerva said as the two stared at each other, Severus in awe and the woman with love. “This is Eileen Prince.”

Lysandra gaped.

“Severus,” Eileen called quietly. Minerva slipped out of the room.

He moved forward, looking like he thought this was a dream, pulling Lysandra with him. His mother cupped his face with one hand, never losing the smile on her lips, and he leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut. When they opened again, he pulled her into a one-armed hug; her arms threaded around his neck.

“I’ve missed you,” he choked out.

“I’m sorry I left. I couldn’t handle your father anymore once you were out on your own,” she murmured.

They moved apart, but only barely. “Where did you go?”

“France. I’ve been working up the courage to come back ever since I heard that you’d died and come back.”

His eyes widened. “You were that close?”

She nodded, stealing a glance at his hand still entwined with Lysandra’s, seeming to just notice the other woman. “I suppose you’re the one the papers are still going wild about? You saved my son from Voldemort, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She leaned into Severus’ arm, resting her free hand on his forearm in a protective gesture.

Eileen smiled again when she saw it, but then faltered slightly. “Please, call me Eileen.”

“Alright…Eileen.”

“Good.” She eyed her son, who gave her a suspicious, narrow-eyed look, and crossed her arms, making the two look more like brother and sister than mother and son. “You love this woman, yes?”

The couple was taken aback by the sudden, drastic change in subject. “Um, well, yes, Mother, I do, very much…” Severus finally answered.

“For how long?”

“We’ve only been together since September, and we didn’t even get to see each other for nearly half a year.”

She gave him a dry look. “Still every bit the Slytherin as you were twenty-one years ago. Answer me or I’ll use my Mum voice.”

He groaned. “You know I always hated that!”

Lysandra couldn’t help giggling softly into his shoulder; he sounded like a child.

His mother smirked at her and he dropped a loving kiss on the top of her head.

“Oh, just answer me,” Eileen quipped.

He gazed down at Lysandra, and she stared up at him, waiting. His eyes never left hers as he finally gave a reply, though a blush was creeping up his cheeks. “I’m not entirely sure, but I know it took both of us quite a while to realize what we felt.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I think…again, without knowing…I think I’ve loved her since around the time I became headmaster.”

Lysandra knew he meant the night he killed Dumbledore; he hated saying the words out loud.

Eileen, however, didn’t quite understand the significance. “What happened while you were headmaster?”

Lysandra turned her head to the older woman. “Do you remember what happened to his predecessor?” When Eileen nodded, she continued. “I’m not sure if it wasn’t in the papers in France or if you forgot somehow, but Vol—the Dark Lord had tasked one of the students at the school, Draco Malfoy, with the job, but Dumbledore wanted Severus to do it. He didn’t have long to live, anyway, so it was more of a mercy killing.”

“He wanted to save the boy’s soul.”

She frowned. “But didn’t it harm your soul, then?”

He shook his head. “I was performing an act of mercy. Malfoy would have been a murderer in the true sense, as much as he didn’t want to do it.”

Eileen shook her head, clearly confused, but let the matter go both to get back to her original point and because she could see it was difficult for him to talk about it. “Anyway, as I was saying: if you’ve loved her for that bloody long, why don’t I see a ring on her finger?”

Lysandra blushed.

“Mother!” Severus exclaimed.

“What?” She put an innocent look on her face.

“You’re being a bit forward,” he growled.

With an eyebrow raised exactly like her son, she countered, “I wouldn’t have to be forward if you’d done it already, now, would I?”

“I hate to gang up on you, love, but she has a point.”

“Lovely. The only two women I love going against me at the same time. Thank you both so much for the support.”

Lysandra couldn’t help but bark a laugh. “I’m not asking for a proposal, am I? Frankly, I probably don’t deserve one after what I put you and George through so recently.”

Severus let go of her hand to circle his arm around her waist. “Don’t start sounding like me, I beg you.”

“Then don’t be a prat to your mother.”

He grinned and gave her a quick kiss, only to see Eileen’s mouth hanging open when he looked back at her. “What are you gawping at?”

“My son just smiled. A real smile.” She looked at Lysandra and pointed to Severus. “Marry him. Please.”

She beamed. “Hmm. I don’t know, Eileen, I don’t think he wants me to.” Her grin turned into a smirk as she turned her blue eyes on her lover. “I don’t think he loves me enough,” she teased.

His answering smirk was mischievous as he cupped her neck with one hand and rested the other on her hip, leaning down to whisper in her ear. Eileen averted her gaze, sensing it was a private moment. “Would you like to ask Sir Nicholas how much I love you? He was rather…irate…the morning after we forgot the silencing charm.”

She shivered. “That’s lust, not love.”

He kissed her neck before straightening up. “Fine, then. I’ll just have to find other means to prove it.”

Eileen rolled her eyes and said one word. “Ring.”

“Mother, please.”

“What?” Her eyes fell on him.

He must have made a face, because a light seemed to turn on in her head. “Oh. I see.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and switched her attention to Lysandra. “I think Minerva mentioned you’re a professor as well. What do you teach?”

“Defence Against the Dark Arts; I alternate with George Weasley. We switch daily, so that one does most of the teaching one day and the other acts as an assistant, and the next day we trade places,” she explained.

“Why’s that, pray tell?”

“He took over for me while I was…away. The students love us both, and they didn’t want him to leave, so now they have both of us.”

“Clever. And where do you plan on staying during the summer holiday?”

Lysandra bit her lip. “We haven’t talked about it, actually. I imagine I’ll be staying with Severus. I never really had a home of my own.”

“Why ever not?” Eileen was clearly worried for her.

“I joined Severus in his spy work in my seventh year, when the Dark Lord returned. After I graduated, I alternated between living at the school, Malfoy Manor, and…a friend’s house. I only resided at the last when Severus alone was aware, though. I also stayed with George Weasley for a time directly following the war.”

Eileen frowned, picking up on the most important piece of information, just like her son would have. “Why would you live at the friend’s house without them knowing?”

Lysandra bit her lip again, looking up at Severus, who answered for her. “The place now belongs to Harry Potter, and Sirius Black before him. It was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, of which both Lysandra and I were secretly members, during the war.”

“I see. Well, then, how are you going to solve her homelessness this summer?”

“I hoped she’d be living with me. Where will you be, Mother?”

She thought a moment. “Merlin knows I’m not going back to that house, no matter how much I love you. I think I’ll find a little place in Hogsmeade.”

Severus nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

It was late when Severus and Lysandra finally escorted Eileen to her guest quarters, and returned to their own. Severus reverted to shell-shocked the moment the door closed behind him. It took Lysandra nearly an hour to calm him down, at which time he decided to fall onto the couch and bring her with him, so that she was in his lap.

“Do I really need to prove my love for you, Lyssa?” he asked gently, tracing a path from her hand to her neck.

“No. Even without the change in your patronus, it would take a fool to miss how you feel.”

“Is that so?”

“You wear your heart on your sleeve when it comes to me, so, yes, it is.”

He gave her a light kiss, frowning when it ended. Lysandra tilted her head to the side, a question in her eyes. He looked like he wanted to tell her something, but, for once, she couldn’t read him well enough to decipher it.

“Lyssa.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Severus.”

“My mother nearly ruined my plans.”

“What plans?”

“Nothing. Shall we go to bed?” 

* * *

 

That Saturday, she slept past noon due to their late night with his mother. He was happy to let her sleep, though he was up at nine like always and wanted to talk to her to make the nerves go away. Actually, that would probably make him even more nervous.

He fingered the small, velvet box in his hand as he sipped his tea in the kitchen. It was only about half the size of his palm, and a deep, midnight purple color. He nearly dropped it and his tea when he heard the bedroom door open quietly, barely managing to slip the thing into a front pocket of his trousers.

Lysandra rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “G’morning,” she muttered with a yawn and a stretch.

He smiled fondly. “It’s not morning anymore.”

She frowned, her eyes still only half open. “Wha’time is it?”

“One o’clock.”

That woke her up. “Why did you let me sleep so bloody long!”

He chuckled. “Mother kept you up until well after three in the morning, it’s Saturday, and we don’t have to chaperone the Hogsmeade trip today. We’re also going somewhere, so you’ll need your strength. I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you.”

“Since when are we going somewhere?”

“Since today. Now, eat up. I know you’re hungry.” Her stomach growled loudly at the mention of food just as her eyes fell on the plate of breakfast on the counter next to the sink. She eyed it suspiciously. He knew she was thinking that he never made her so much food on a normal day. “Just eat, Lysandra. Please. I promise I’m not up to anything. Well, nothing bad.”

She gave in, too hungry to think about his reasons too hard. He took the plate when she finished and told her to dress light, and she came out wearing a deep green tank top, silver jeans, black flats, and a thin travelling cloak.

“You look like a Slytherin again,” he remarked with a smirk.

“You _act_ like a Gryffindor,” she replied

“Hmmm. Maybe I should take the surprise back, if you’re going to act like that.”

“No, I’ll be good!”

His answering smile was small and warm as he gather her in his arms, and the emotions she saw battling for dominance in his eyes and on his face took her breath away. “I’d never take it back. I love you too much. My black heart is completely yours; I could never promise you something and then not give it to you.”

“A Gryffindor with the heart of a Slytherin in her hands. How ironic.” She kissed his cheek.

“Very. Come on, we’ve got some walking ahead of us.”

He barely touched her as they walked, contrary to his behavior of late, with only his fingertips on the small of her back. He could tell this unnerved her as he led her to a secluded spot along the shore of the Black Lake, hidden by trees on three sides and almost directly across from where Khaye had fallen. She gasped quietly when he waved his hand over the area directly in front of them to reveal blankets and pillows spread out on the ground.

“What exactly was your plan, Severus?” she inquired, suspicious again.

“Not that. Get your mind out of the gutter, woman,” he teased. “Sit and watch the trees.”

She watched him remove his frock coat and toss it aside before lowering himself to the ground, where he rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows and opened the first few buttons at his neck. He quirked an eyebrow, staring her down until she gave up, taking off her cloak to sit between his legs with her back against his chest. He circled her waist with his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Watch,” he murmured.

Before long, thestrals started wandering closer and closer to the pair, a few taking off into the air right in front of them. Lysandra craned her head back to watch them glide through the air, when Severus reached out to point into the trees again.

“Look. This is what I brought you here for.”

She leveled her gaze on the forest again and gasped loudly. A pure gold colt was wobbling around just inside the treeline. His whiter-than-snow mother trotted over just in time to steady him before he fell by standing flush against him. He neighed what Lysandra assumed to be thanks, and she nuzzled his neck in return.

“Unicorns,” she breathed.

When the two of them were noticed, Severus brought Lysandra to her feet with him, gently pushing her forward before stepping back. “Hold out your hand,” he instructed. “See if the baby comes over.”

She obeyed, hoping her Dark Mark wouldn’t turn either of them off to her. The colt, to her relief and his mother’s apprehension, wasted no time in cantering over to nuzzle her fingers. Lysandra hesitantly petted his nose and, when she was confidant she wouldn’t scare him off, let her hand slide up to rub between his ears. He couldn’t be more than a day old by his earlier difficulty with walking, but his eyes were nearly level with hers.

She smiled wide. “You’re a beautiful little thing,” she cooed. “Not so little, though.”

The sound of hooves on hard-packed dirt had her looking past her new friend to see his mother walking toward them slowly. She swallowed, praying the mare wasn’t angry with her, and replaced her left hand with her right between the colt’s ears to hold it out for the unicorn, palm up. The mother was obviously taller even than Severus, therefore angering her was not to be taken lightly.

She and Severus both froze in astonishment when the creature nudged the Dark Mark with her nose, careful to keep her horn away from Lysandra, and nickered. She then touched her nose to Lysandra’s forehead as Lysandra slowly touched her hand to the mare’s neck, thrilled to be allowed the contact.

The feeling was short-lived, however, when the colt approached Severus to investigate. His mother was distracted by Lysandra, but glimpsed her son staring up at the man and snorted with a toss of her head and a stamp of her foot. He didn’t obey her at first, so she backed a few steps away from Lysandra in order to have enough room to rear and neigh at the misbehaving colt without harming her as she came back to earth. He listened to her then, and they both disappeared into the trees after an annoyed flick of the mare’s tail while she waited.

“Wow,” was all Lysandra could say when they were gone.

Severus grinned. “I’d be insulted, but I know they don’t like men in general. I’ve never seen one ask for a woman’s touch, though, rather than simply accept it,” he said as he returned to her side.

“I’ll bet you’ve never seen a Marked woman touch one, either.”

“Never.”

“I feel special.” She couldn’t help but laugh, ecstatic about the short experience. “That was…” Words fled her.

“More than amazing.”

“Thank you so much for bringing me here,” she gushed, snuggling into his chest.

“Always at your service, Lyssa.” He held her close.

“You’ve been calling me that more often. I like it.”

“How convenient,” he responded sarcastically.

She smacked his chest playfully. “Don’t be an arse.”

He took a deep, calming breath. “Actually, I had it in mind to be something completely different today…” He let her go with one arm, taking the box from his pocket and holding it behind his back to flip it open. When he brought back around to show her what was inside, her hand flew to cover her mouth, though she didn’t quite know what it was for due to the non-traditional colors.

The ring was white gold, holding a marquise-cut onyx framed by two pear-cut blue topazes.

“Marry me,” he whispered into her hair.

“Yes!” she responded without hesitation. His heart soared.

He pulled back just far enough to take the ring from the box and slip it on her finger, where it adjusted to the perfect size. She wiggled her fingers, admiring the way it threw the light, before jumping up to hug him around his neck. She kissed his neck and cheek at least a dozen times, telling him she loved him after each one, which had him laughing heartily by the time she let herself drop down to the ground.

However, Severus was having none of that. He picked her up with his arms wrapped around her and spun her around, only setting her back on her feet so he could bury one hand in her hair as he kissed her senseless.


	17. Starting Over

Lysandra lay sprawled across her new fiancé as he lay sprawled across the couch in his rooms; her soon-to-be mother-in-law was chattering excitedly from her chair about something Lysandra wasn’t paying attention to, knowing they were only waiting for her to fall asleep before they began whatever important conversation they wanted to have.

She let her body relax, her face turned toward the back of the sofa, and hoped they thought she’d finally dozed off.

“Is she asleep?” Eileen whispered.

She assumed Severus was checking when he was silent for a moment. “Yes. What did you want to speak with me about?”

“Are you happy?” she asked bluntly.

Lysandra could hear the frown in Severus’ voice. “Mother, I proposed to her last month. Why else would I have done so if I _wasn’t_ happy?”

“I don’t know, I just had to ask.” There was a pause; both of them seemed to be thinking. “What is it you see in her, exactly? I haven’t had long enough to get to know her between wedding planning and her classes, I’m afraid.”

Severus hesitated. Lysandra couldn’t tell if he was simply trying to come up with a long enough list or make it shorter. She hoped for the latter. “It’s difficult to put into words, really. For starters, she’s one of the only two people alive who can see through what she likes to call ‘the little mask I put on for the rest of the world.’”

“She _must_ be a Legilimens, then,” Eileen teased.

Lysandra felt him smile against the back of her head. “No, only an Occlumens. I refused to teach her Legilimency or allow anyone else to do it; I was afraid she’d try to delve too far into the Dark Lord’s mind and be caught.”

“I really can’t be surprised by these sort of things anymore. What else is special about her to you?”

He chuckled quietly to himself. “She’s never been afraid to lecture me. You might not believe this, but she even called me ‘Sevvie’ once to get me to tell her something.”

Eileen just barely kept her laughter quiet to avoid waking Lysandra, if she were actually asleep. “That’s brilliant. You’ll have to show me that memory sometime.”

“Not a chance, Mother.”

“Spoil-sport,” Eileen grumbled. Lysandra nearly giggled, but managed to pass it off as a sleepy grunt. “Go on, tell me more.”

“You’re insatiable. Hmm, let’s see…She’s never abandoned me, not even after witnessing the worst and weakest parts of me.”

“What about your recent separation?”

“I don’t count it; she was only trying to protect me.”

“I didn’t think so. What do you think she sees in you, then?”

“I’m hoping she sees that I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone before, aside from you. Even more than Lily. Mother, this woman has altered my soul, and I know she and everyone else see that every day. And how much would it tell _you_ if the man you loved still wore a necklace of yours he found after he’d been destroyed by thinking he’d lost you?” Lysandra felt him move his hand up to indicate the cobra pendant resting on his collar. She’d been thoroughly shocked when he’d refused to take it off, but she finally saw how much he’d gone through with that seemingly small gesture.

“I would feel like the luckiest woman alive. I can’t wait to call her my daughter.”

Lysandra sighed to give her pleasure at that remark an outlet.

Severus did his best to hide his smile in her hair. “I can’t wait to call her my wife.”

She took a deep breath to keep from grinning like a fool.

He kissed the top of her head. “I know you’re not asleep, Cobra.”

“Is it really that obvious?” she groused.

They both chuckled. “Yes, it really is,” Eileen answered.

“Well, then, since my attempted deceit has been found out, I must ask you to leave so I can give my fiancé a proper response to all his declarations.”

“Lysandra!” Severus breathed, scandalized.

“Oh, please. I know what you two do when I leave. I should be getting home anyway; it’s late. Good night to you both.”

“Good night,” Severus and Lysandra chorused.

“I believe there was something you wanted to show me, Professor Blackwell?” Severus asked once his mother was through the floo.

“There is, Professor Snape.” She stood slowly, pulling him up with her. “If you’ll just follow me into the bedroom, I can give you a proper demonstration…”

“Of course, Professor.” 

* * *

 

They sat together at the Head Table the night before the last day of school for the students, who were inherently excited to go home, with their hands clasped in Lysandra’s lap.

“Did you get a chance to read the paper this morning?” Lysandra asked.

“No, why?” Severus took a sip of his wine.

“The Ministry’s finally caught the last of the Death Eaters. The Malfoys have yet to plead their case, but I think they’ll be fine. They did prove to be on the side of Light, in the end.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thank Merlin. I’ve been paranoid out of my mind for over a year.”

She nodded in agreement before she swallowed. “I still can’t believe we haven’t even been together for that long.”

“Do you want to postpone the wedding?” Severus asked quickly. He didn’t want to push her, lest she run from him for a different reason.

“No, not at all. I haven’t found a date that’ll work yet, so postponing it would be a little redundant, anyway. All I was saying was that I feel like we should have been together for years, not months.”

“I was a bit hesitant to chase after a woman seventeen years my junior,” he said dryly.

“Solved that problem right quick, didn’t we?”

He snorted. “Clearly.”

When dinner was over, they flooed to Eileen’s little house in Hogsmeade to try to find some little things for the ceremony. Before they could even leave, however, Eileen decided to make a drastic turn in the conversation.

“When are you two going to give me grandchildren?”

“Mother!” Severus chastised. He felt like he had to snap at her every other minute.

Lysandra was blushing furiously beside him. “We haven’t really talked about it yet. Life’s been a bit hectic lately; no time, you see.”

“Think about it now, then. I want at least one.”

Severus arched an eyebrow. “And what makes you think you’re in a position to demand even one child, Mother?”

“My son is Severus Snape, and my future daughter-in-law is Lysandra Blackwell. I’m in a position to demand whatever it is I bloody well please.”

“Well we _are_ Severus Snape and Lysandra Blackwell, so we’re in a position to _do_ whatever it is we bloody well please.”

Her eyes got wide and puppy-like to stare up at her son, who fairly towered over her. “You wouldn’t deny me the chance to make up for my past mistakes, would you?”

He muttered a curse.

“Severus, do you even want a child? Or children, maybe?” Lysandra asked.

“Well, I suppose, but…”

“Then why on Earth are you arguing with her?”

He swore again. “You women with your ability to beat me in arguments. I swear you’re the only people who can.”

“And you love us anyway. Let’s have this conversation after we’re married. It’ll be more relevant then.”

“Fine,” the other two muttered in unison.

Lysandra grinned. “Right, then. Off we go.” 

* * *

 

It was the middle of August the next year; Lysandra had gone to visit George at his shop, hoping to unload her anxiety about the next day, the nineteenth, on her adopted brother. The past year with Severus had been the best of her life, granted they were very up and down. They fought every other day sometimes, others going a full month without so much as a cross word to each other. They’d turned his, now their, house in Spinner’s End into something that looked nothing like his childhood home, even though they planned on selling it and moving into a magical part of England.

George was just finishing ringing a customer up when he saw her, his face lighting up in a smile. He’d been doing more of that lately, smiling. Lysandra suspected that was because of his girlfriend of six months. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Finally decided to grace my shop with your fame, have you?”

She smirked. “Alas, you’ve found me out.” He chuckled and rolled his eyes, and she continued. “I need help, actually. I’m so nervous I’m about to jump out of my skin.”

“And you thought _I_ could help you with wedding jitters?” he asked, disbelief coloring his tone.

“Well I can’t exactly ask Hermione when she’s off somewhere with Ron, now, can I?” Hermione had decided somewhere along the line that she wanted to get to know Lysandra better; Ron and Severus could barely stand it whenever the two girls would force them to all go out together, mostly just to see how riled up they’d get.

“No, I suppose not. Shouldn’t your Maid of Honour have spirited you off to a bachelorette party by now, though?”

“She tried, but we don’t have enough imagination to come with something to do between just the two of us, so I let her off the hook. Besides, I would have backed out even if we _did_ have any ideas. I’m too worried something will go wrong tomorrow.” She dropped her head in her hands, peaking again as George opened his mouth to respond. “And, no, I am _not_ listening to any of your wild ideas. I love you to death, but I refuse. Sorry.”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong, Lyssa. You’ve been planning non-stop for a year; I’m sure you’ve driven Snape half-mad by now. Plus, you’ve had Hermione Granger helping you—with as much of a control freak as she can be, your wedding will run perfectly, the reception just the same, and then you and Snape can go have mind-blowing sex in whatever honeymoon spot he’s picked out for you two,” he assured.

Lysandra’s head snapped up. “Oh, gods. What if his honeymoon plans fall through?”

His mouth fell open with a small “pop” and he stared for a moment, astonished. “I must be going mad, because I thought I just heard you doubt Snape.”

“I don’t doubt _him_ , George! It’s just…ugh, I can _feel_ that something’s going to go wrong.”

“I’m wounded by your confidence in that statement, Lyssa,” Severus said behind her, lightly touching his hands to her waist.

She whirled with a gasp that was almost a quiet scream as George sniggered behind her and Severus grinned wickedly. “How did you know I was here?!” she questioned, holding a hand to her heart. “Thanks for scaring me half to death, by the way!”

He chuckled and pulled her closer to hug her to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he claimed, still laughing. “I just guessed you’d go to George since Granger is off somewhere with Ronald.”

“You can’t stop my heart the day before our wedding. That’s just not right.”

“I swear I wasn’t trying to. I thought you heard me come in.”

“Yeah, along with the other ten people that walked in since I’ve been here.” She rolled her eyes, trying and failing to glare at him.

His grin only widened. “How many times do you want me to apologize?”

“Until it sinks in.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“That is _not_ what I meant, you arse!”

“I’m toying with you.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “And stop your worrying. My plans will not fall through, and I promise you’re going to love every minute of it. I was just passing through, anyway, so you can get back your time with your…brother.” He was still hesitant to use the word, even after Lysandra’s insistence that he get used to calling George her brother, because she truly saw him that way an wanted to make sure he made a habit of remembering that. “I need to buy a few potions ingredients for the first term; my stores are severely depleted both at home and at the school.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’ll be fine on my own. You know how I get when I’m looking for potions ingredients.”

“I do, indeed.” He zoned every single time without fail. The employees at all the local shops knew to let him be rather than ask if he needed help.

George returned to her side the moment he left the shop. “So, do you know where he’s taking you yet?”

He rested her chin on one hand. “No,” she said with a pout. “I’ve been trying to trick it out of him for weeks, but he figures me out every time.”

“You’re rather un-sneaky for a former spy.”

“My fiancé is a Slytherin. It’s a wonder he kisses me in public. How can you expect me to weasel information out of him so easily?”

He snorted and threw his head back with a short laugh. “You’ve bloody done it before, Lyssa.”

“That’s because he was only hiding his past, not hiding a surprise from me. He’s much more determined to keep me from finding him out.”

“Hmm. True.”

“Have you got anything new lately?” She asked suddenly, eyeing the door that led to the workroom in the back, where all of his inventing was done.

It was his turn to pout. “No. Between the summer buzz and keeping the girlfriend from feeling underappreciated, I haven’t had any time.”

“George Weasley hasn’t created any new inventions lately. Surely we’re all about to experience the apocalypse.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let it ruin your wedding.”

“Mm-hm. You’ll just let it wreak havoc on my married life, send me off to the Veil as a Prince.”

“I thought you were marrying Snape, not his mum?”

“He’s set on killing his father’s name, sine he can’t kill his bloodline, so he’s trying to talk me into changing my name to Prince instead of Snape. And he wants any and all children to carry the Prince name, as well. I’m fine with the second, but I’m not letting him get away with the first one.”

“Don’t want to have your mother-in-law’s last name instead of your husband’s?”

“Exactly.”

“He’s daft if he thinks you’ll agree to it.”

“Don’t say that to him.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“What’s wrong, still scared of him?” Lysandra smirked evilly.

George forced a shiver. “Hell yes.”

She giggled. “I think he likes you well enough, to be honest. He doesn’t sneer at me when I tell him you’re coming over anymore.”

“Still sneers at me when I walk through the door, though.”

“He does that with everyone but me.”

“Even his mum?”

She looked up at him through her lashes. “Eileen Prince does not set foot in the Snape residence,” she stated firmly. “Or anywhere in Cokeworth, really.”

He frowned and tilted his head. “Why?”

“As much as I’d love you tell you, that story will have to come from her or Severus, and I doubt they’ll ever tell you. It’s not something you tell a lot of people.”

“I understand. I think.”

“Don’t stress about it.”

He jabbed a finger at her. “Don’t you start stressing out, either.”

She groaned and let her forehead fall to the counter with a groan. “Now I’m worried all over again.”

George cursed his renewed impulsiveness and spent the rest of the day keeping her mind from the wedding in between customers, which proved difficult to do once the place really started filling up. Lysandra wound up helping him to keep her mind distracted when they weren’t able to talk.

She didn’t get home until well after eight and apologized profusely for missing dinner, but Severus just chuckled and told her to relax.

“You’re too strung out. Have some tea, find a book, an relax on the couch or in bed until it’s time to go to sleep.”

“I suppose…”

“Lysandra.”

She met his gaze. He could see the gears turning in her head, working out all the things that could go wrong and how to fix them if they did.

“Please try to calm down. You’ll never get enough sleep if you’re up all night driving yourself mad.”

“Easy for you to say. All you have to do is stand up there and wait for me. I have to walk down the aisle with everybody watching me in a dress that touches the floor and hope George’s reflexes are quick enough to catch me if I fall and hope you don’t freak out and leave me at the altar,” she snapped.

He looked genuinely hurt. “Do you really think I’d abandon you like that, Lysandra?”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling terrible when he didn’t return the embrace. “No, Severus, I don’t think that at all. It’s just the nerves talking, I swear. This is supposed to be the best day of our lives; I don’t want it to get messed up.”

“It’ll be wonderful, I promise you.” He finally enveloped her in his arms, drawing his robes around her as well. “And you know I always keep my promises where possible.”

“I do know that.”

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “And you are going to be the most beautiful bride in history, in my eyes if not everyone else’s.”

She bit her lip. “I’m not worried about how I’m going to look, love.”

“I know. But I also know it’s a good idea to say what needs to be said, especially when it comes to you.”

“Afraid you’ll get bitten if you don’t?” She grinned into his frock coat.

“Absolutely,” he agreed, playing along.

“Severus,” she said, suddenly serious again.

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too…”

“Please don’t die.”

“I won’t, at least not for another century. Where is this coming from?” He thought she’d gotten over the drama of the war and Khaye’s near-success at killing him.

“I just…I don’t know. Sometimes I’m afraid Khaye made a Horcrux, or that the Dark Lord had one no one knew about, or some such nonsense like that. I’m afraid someone will come along who’s still holding a grudge against one of us an start that agony all over again.”

He nudged her to let him lead her to the couch and had them both stretch out on it, with Lysandra between him and its back. “No one is going to come after us unless it’s to hurl congratulations in our faces or ask too-personal questions for the Daily Prophet.”

“How do you know, Severus? How do you know there’s not someone out there right now, plotting some scheme against us?” She clutched his coat; both of her legs were thoroughly tangled up with his.

“Because I do.” The conversation was starting to sound too much like the one he and Lucius had the night of the battle that saw Lysandra to Longhaven Cliffs. He traced his fingertips over the soft skin of her face, neck, shoulder, and arm in an attempt to soothe her. “Please, Lyssa, relax. Fall asleep right here if you want; I know you didn’t get much of it last night. Do I need to give you a dreamless sleep potion?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry; I know what you’re feeling. I’ve been there before.” He intertwined their hands and brought hers up so he could press his lips to the back of it. “Look, think of tomorrow as…a new beginning. We’re wiping the slate clean and putting the past behind us. We’ll even be coming home to a different house when the honeymoon is over. It’ll be like we’re starting over.”

She sighed, crushing her lips together. “Alright. One last thing, though: I am not changing my name to Prince, I’m changing it to Snape.”

He groaned. “Why?”

“Because I’d prefer to have my _husband’s_ last name and not my _mother-in-law’s_.”

“Fine. Will you go to sleep, now? We’re both getting up at six in the morning; we’ll need the rest.”

“Yes, you impatient prat.” She wiggled closer.

“Finally.”

Just before they drifted into unconsciousness, they were both looking forward to starting over and finally putting their pasts to rest.


End file.
